


I Think You Lost Something

by QuietBreeze



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, Fix-It, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hotel Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU of sorts but it's post-canon, Near Future, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietBreeze/pseuds/QuietBreeze
Summary: “You’re even more dense than I thought.”Lance blinked. “What do you mean?”“I mean I can’t believe you never noticed he's in love with you."*It’s been three years since the war ended and Lance has taken a new job in an effort to make a fresh start. It’s been going well so far, but he can’t help but feel something is still missing.Things get more complicated when mysterious Altean magic starts to trouble him, and Keith comes to visit after a tough mission with the Blades.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 159





	1. Part I

It wasn’t the first time Lance had woken to a searing pain in his forehead.

They’d been happening more and more over the last couple of months, and not always because he’d had one too many margaritas the night before. Sometimes he’d go to bed peacefully, but then he would open his eyes the next day to find his vision foggy and an unbearable pain cutting inside his temples.

This time, the pain was as bad as ever as he opened his eyes, but unlike the times before, he’d just been having vivid dreams. While dreams weren’t an unusual occurrence, this one Lance had found difficult to wake up from. It was as if some invisible force had been pulling him back into sleep, as if it were something alive.

Just recovering from that feeling was enough to make him feel dizzy. He tried to focus his vision as he slowly woke up, but the room was dark, and there was pain behind his eyelids, reaching deep inside his head, throbbing there. He slowly sat himself up and pressed a palm against his temple, in some futile attempt to make the pain disappear.

“Oh, man,” he groaned.

The blue walls of his bedroom wouldn’t stay still, swirling like ocean waves. Somehow, his bare feet reached the floor, skin bare and cold against the wood. He carefully got to his feet and left his room, down the hall towards where he knew the bathroom was. The apartment was still thick with darkness, but the sky outside was tinged orange, making Lance guess it was the early hours of the morning.

He was in too much pain to remember how much time he had left before he had to leave for work. Instead, he was just relieved to find the bathroom door ajar, all but collapsing into the room and leaning over the basin, one hand clutching the edge as he used the other to run water and splash it over his face. The sudden shock and moisture began to soothe his head, but it didn’t get rid of the pain completely.

He felt like his lungs were about to explode, knuckles turning white as he held the edge of the sink. He was sure he was going to faint, but then, somewhere in his consciousness, he could feel movement behind him – footsteps on the floor, an echo in the bathroom as someone entered and placed caring hands around his shoulders.

“Lance?”

A female voice with a gentle Spanish lilt – his sister, Veronica. She was turning him around slowly, cupping his face and making him look into her eyes. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “Lance, focus on me.”

He tried to align his vision, seeing Veronica’s pupils on his, but the rest of her was blurry, and he took all his effort to stop his eyes closing.

Before he was fully aware of it, Veronica was guiding him into the living room, where gentle sunlight from the large window was painting the room with golden light. He had a vague memory of being pushed onto the sofa, light-headed and sore, as Veronica disappeared and came back with a damp cloth. When she pressed it to his head, the cold pressure was a welcome relief. He closed his eyes and lay his head back against the sofa, exhaling.

“Here, take this,” he heard Veronica say, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her holding out a tablet and a glass of water.

Desperately, Lance gulped the tablet down, hoping it would work its magic. His surroundings were still a blur, but he could just make out Veronica’s silver eyes watching him, her glasses abandoned, brown hair a frizzy mess. She was giving him a warm smile, but Lance could still see the worry on her face.

He remembered her giving him the same look years ago. He’d been ill as a young boy and Veronica had been the big sister he didn’t think he deserved, kneeling beside him and telling him he would be better soon, but she was never able to hide her concern for him. The concern was evident even now, but Lance couldn’t blame her after seeing him like this.

To his relief, the painkiller began to help. His vision was righting itself, Veronica’s face was nearly in full focus and the room no longer looked like it was under the ocean. Lance inhaled and exhaled deeply, still rather light-headed, but managed a smile in his sister’s direction.

“Morning, did I wake you?”

Almost immediately, Veronica swapped her smile for a frown. “You’re an idiot,” she snapped, slapping the back of his hand. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like this.”

“Ow!” Lance exclaimed, rubbing his hand. “Seriously? I’ve already been hurt enough! That was probably the worst headache yet.”

“No kidding, Lance!” Veronica told him sharply. “Are you telling me you still won’t go back to the doctor even now?”

Lance sighed. “They’re just going to say the same thing.” He put his hands on his hips for his best impression. “‘ _It’s migraines! Keep taking your medicine! Get some rest!_ ’” He rolled his eyes. “Wow, Doc, never thought of that! It’s not like I’ve been doing that for weeks.”

“But I can’t be up every hour of the night making sure this thing doesn’t kill you,” Veronica argued.

“You have so far,” Lance reminded her.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not the point, Lance. What if one night I slept through it and it had got worse?”

“You know I’ve dealt with worse things than headaches and dreams, right?” he asked. “I can handle it, and it’s not like it won’t pass soon.”

His words exuded confidence, but Lance wasn’t entirely sure if he believed them. It was clear Veronica didn’t either. She was still scowling, blinking once before she sighed heavily and got to her feet.

“I don’t think you should go to work today,”

“Will you _stop_?” Lance asked impatiently. “Work isn’t going to be a problem,” Lance said with a wave of his hand, leaning back into the sofa. “I just sit behind the desk and check people into their rooms, all day long. Doesn’t take many brain cells.”

He thought he might be sounding ungrateful, which wasn’t true at all. He appreciated that Veronica was here for him, and couldn’t have thought of anyone better to be his flatmate. When he’d moved away from the farm a few months ago, he’d barely known how to make ends meet while also holding down a new job. This was a job he’d applied for on a complete whim, no less – receptionist work at a hotel called The Pinnacle, several miles away from home.

Unsurprisingly, his parents hadn’t been keen on the idea of him leaving. They’d been living in peace since the former paladins of Voltron left to follow new, exciting paths, and it wasn’t that Lance hadn’t liked _his_ chosen path, but after a certain amount of time, something about it felt incomplete. He still missed Allura desperately, having both fond and painful memories when he glanced in the mirror and saw the two aqua marks above his cheekbones. Nothing brought him more honour than telling Allura’s story to those who never knew her, making them aware of the sacrifice she made. It not only brought joy to others, but it made him feel like the one chosen to carry on Voltron’s legacy, in some small way.

But after three years, it seemed there was nothing more he could do. He’d turned twenty-two recently, and suddenly he’d wanted to seek something more than telling stories for the rest of his life. It was selfish, he knew that, and it certainly didn’t validate the decision to take the first job he saw. But it was done now, so Lance decided he was just going to roll with it. That was what he always did: kept a cool attitude, never worried needlessly; just took whatever came his way with a gleaming smile.

He would have the rest of his life to regret it later.

Veronica snorted, moving to join him on the sofa. “That’s what I’m worried about,” she said, which Lance thought felt like a rather personal attack.

She forced him to drink more water, despite his complaining, and he ended up downing the entire glass, appreciating it more with every sip.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he began to say. “ _It’s not enough for you, Lance! You’re better than that, Lance! You need to go and do what you’ve always dreamed of, Lance!”_

“Well, why not? I don’t get how you went from wanting to be a pilot to working as a hotel clerk.”

“I just wanted a change of scenery. It doesn’t have to be a spectacular job. It’s just… something, you know?”

Veronica glared right into his eyes. “No, Lance, it just pays the rent and makes you tired. Great change, Lance.”

“If you’re thinking long hours at work is the reason for the headaches, then you’re worrying too much.”

Veronica seemed to give up on arguing, sighing and rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. Lance felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. There were visible circles around her eyes, making him wonder how much sleep she was really getting. He let her take a moment, his gaze drawn to the window as the sunrise shone through the glass.

Their living room was a large space, full of modern décor and far more lavishly decorated than Lance was used to. Even though it was a cheap flat compared to most, it was clean and well-built, windows large enough to fill the entire walls, and leather sofas that stuck to his skin when the weather was hot (which it often was, since they were in the midst of summer).

It wasn’t at all like home, which often seemed like a good thing, but other times Lance found it strange, often yearning to return to the place he knew so well. He wondered if his sister felt the same way. He hadn’t thought to ask her since they moved here. As he glanced at her, face still in her hands and a sleepy groan escaping her, he could feel his guilt worsen.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Go back to bed.”

Veronica looked up with sleepy eyes, sunlight gracing her left cheek. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“Well, you’ll be right back up again if I’m not, right?”

She scowled at him again. “That doesn’t help.”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled. “I’m fine. Go to bed.”

It took some convincing, but eventually she agreed to go back to her room, and in turn, Lance went back to his, which was directly opposite his sister’s. The first thing he did was check his alarm clock.

5:22 AM.

Only two more hours before he had to get up again. Figures. No wonder he was always tired.

As he climbed into bed and pulled the covers around him, he tried not to think of the pain that could come back at any moment, or the intense dreams that wouldn’t let him wake. He just lay his head into the pillows, turning on his side and shutting his eyes. Nothing was going to happen. He was tired, and he was sure that feeling was enough to guide him into sleep.

Just when he thought he would doze off, there was a prickly, hot feeling on Lance’s cheeks, a warmth that spread across his face. It stung a little, centred particularly on his cheekbones, pulsing there, like a heartbeat. Confused, Lance opened his eyes and pressed his fingers to his cheeks – and his breath hitched when he saw a light shining on his fingertips as he held them there.

He quickly rolled out of bed, flicked a light on and ran to his desk mirror. He’d seen this happen before, but not once since then, and it made his eyes grow huge as he stared at his reflection.

His Altean markings were glowing for the first time in three years.

* * *

Sleep was almost impossible after that.

When Lance opened his eyes later that morning to turn off his alarm, he slowly realised he’d only slept for forty-five minutes. What a great shift this was going to be, he thought glumly.

He rolled from onto his back, the pillow a comfort behind his head. Tentatively, he pressed three fingers to the area under his left eye. It was cold to the touch, the glow from before completely gone. 

Lance took his hand away and let it fall to his side. His Altean marks had stayed alight for a couple of hours, and no matter how much he’d paced the room or wracked his brains trying to think of an explanation, he couldn’t place why it was happening, nor find a way to stop it. The last time the marks had glowed was when the lions had left Earth and disappeared into the night. That immediately made him think: had one of them have returned? But why would that be? They’d dismantled the Galran Empire and brought peace. Voltron had served its purpose, surely… unless there was a new threat that needed to be dealt with?

That had sent Lance into a panic at 5:30 in the morning. He’d had to take deep breaths to calm himself, leaning over his desk, and soon realised, if the lions had returned, he would have actually _felt_ something. If he was still connected to Blue, or even Red, he would have sensed them talking to him. Even if their bond wasn’t the same as before, a lion would communicate with its paladin if the situation called for it.

There was no sign that a lion was reaching out to him, or the sound of their heavy forms landing outside his flat. If that had happened, Lance might have taken one look through his window and cried. But there was nothing to suggest any of the lions were nearby.

In the early hours of the morning, Lance had stared into the mirror with his mouth agape. Had he done anything to trigger his power? He didn’t think so, and if he had, it had been done without him knowing it. No matter how much he’d turned the idea over in his head, he couldn’t place what had triggered it. Perhaps he didn’t know his power as well as he thought. After all, _was_ it even power? All Lance knew was that Allura had given him Altean markings that _very occasionally_ glowed like night-lights, but that did make him part-Altean? Did he even possess any real power, or were the markings just… _markings_ , and nothing more?

After a while, Lance had grown tired of staring at his reflection waiting for something to happen and fallen face-down into his pillows. But he certainly hadn’t slept. The markings continued to glow, distracting his eyes whenever he tried to shut them and keep out the light.

Now, he was lying there with next to no sleep, feeling groggy and limp, the markings back to normal and he was none the wiser about what had happened with them.

Groaning, Lance clambered out of bed, arms and legs cramping. When he managed to drag himself to the bathroom, he almost laughed as he looked in the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy, hair like a bird’s nest, and his lips were pale and chapped. His Altean marks were blank and lifeless. Maybe he’d just dreamt the whole glowing thing, since it was routine for him to have weird dreams at this point. 

After showering and brushing his teeth, he at least felt refreshed, but his appearance clearly hadn’t changed much, because when he walked into the kitchen, fully dressed for work, Veronica took one look at him from her place on the counter and held in a snicker.

“You’re a mess,” she stated, before biting into a slice of toast.

“Wow, thanks,” Lance muttered in reply, heading straight for the coffee machine.

“Did you sleep at _all_?” his sister asked, through a mouthful of toast.

Lance shook his head as he switched on the machine, before reaching into the top cupboard to grab his mug: a white beaker with a tiny blue lion on it. It had been rather clumsily painted by his own hand, but he still liked having it.

“Lance, if you were getting more headaches, you should have woken me up,” Veronica said sternly.

“No, it… it wasn’t that.”

He could feel Veronica eyeing him as he stood with his back against the counter. “What was it then?” she asked.

Lance wasn’t sure how to describe it without sounding ridiculous. Should he even tell her? It wasn’t exactly a worry, but he knew it would stay on Veronica’s mind if he told her, especially when even _he_ didn’t understand what had happened.

“I don’t know,” he eventually said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I think my brain was just wide awake after that whole…” He waved his hand around as he thought of words. “… thing.”

“Hm.”

He knew that ‘hm’. It meant she didn’t believe him. But it was fine. He’d explain it later when they were both less tired.

When he’d finished making coffee, Lance was reminded of how eternally grateful he was that caffeine existed. After only the first sip he felt it in his system, waking his stiff muscles and heavy eyelids. If he needed anything to get through today, it was exactly that.

 _Don’t fail me now,_ he thought. _Something’s got to help me keep up the award-winning smile all day._

* * *

As it turned out, the award-winning smile happened without Lance needing to force it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling like utter shit, but his charm seemed to work regardless. He’d been at the reception desk for an hour when a mother walked in with her daughter. She was dressed in a thin strapless top and shorts for the hot weather, but it had done nothing to dispel the sweat on her shoulders and under her hairline.

Tired from their journey, she’d asked for a last-minute room. Lance had watched the way she cradled her daughter to her side. The girl couldn’t have been older than six, barely reaching her mum’s waist in height, pale cheeks covered in freckles. Lance had offered them a twin room, pleased to find there were plenty available when checking their bookings. The woman had accepted gratefully, smiling fondly as a reply to his. After handing her the key, he’d reached under his desk, taken a sweet from a well-hidden jar and given it to the girl. He told her it was from his ‘secret emergency supply’, and he only ever gave them to his nicest guests.

“Thank you so much,” the mother had said.

“Hey, no problem, enjoy your stay,” Lance had replied with a polite wave and friendly wink. He’d felt a warmth in his stomach as she took her daughter by the hand and headed for the elevator.

It was then that a bright female voice broke his train of thought. “Well, good morning, ray of sunshine.”

Lance looked over the counter to see a woman approaching. She had a large set of brown curls, Whitney Houston style, olive-coloured skin and a confident gait in her shoulders as she walked. Her name was Camilla, and she was only older than him by a couple of years but had worked here far longer. Fortunately for Lance, she was the kind of person who didn’t make fun of the newbie and had actually been a mentor of sorts for the past few months.

A mentor he could talk to and laugh with like they were best friends at high school, that is.

“Morning, raincloud on a sunny day,” he said mischievously as she dropped her satchel under the desk.

She put a hand on her heart in mock hurt. “And I’m always so kind to you.”

“It never lasts.”

They chuckled as Camilla sat down next to him, dropping her satchel to the floor and brushing her curls out of her eyes. When she stared at him fully, she scrutinized his face for a few seconds, then asked, “Lance, have you slept?”

“Oh, for the love of…!”

Lance stopped himself, making sure there was no-one in the lobby as he let his head fall into his hands. “Do I really look that bad?” he groaned.

“Well, you don’t look your best, if I’m honest.” Lance glared at Camilla as she snickered under her breath, her ear-studs glinting in the room’s light. “I’m only saying, you may be able to fool strangers with that smile of yours, but I work with you. I know that bloodshot look in your eyes. Last time that happened you’d been up all night trying to figure out how Sherlock faked his death.”

“Listen, you ruined me the moment you made me watch that show!” Lance rebutted with a finger pointed at her.

“ _Anyway._ ” Camilla suddenly fixed him with a stern look. “What was it this time? Hooked on _Dexter_ yet?”

“ _No_.”

“What, then?”

Lance hesitated. It was like Veronica all over again, but Camilla wasn’t his sister. Her relationship with him was different. She didn’t feel responsibility for him like Veronica did – she was just a kind person who happened to be his friend and work colleague. He traced two fingers on the space below his left eye, feeling the bumps of the mark on his skin.

“Something weird woke me up last night,” he began to explain.

“Like, alien-weird?” asked Camilla.

At that question, Lance turned to stare at her, which made her hold her hands up innocently.

“Hey, I was only assuming, it’s not exactly unheard of on Earth nowadays! Especially for you, and your… um…”

She pointed at her own blank cheeks for emphasis.

“If you’re trying not to sound offensive, it’s not working,” Lance told her.

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I love your marks! They give you character.”

“… Stiiiiiill feeling offended.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Lance.”

She lost track of what she was going to say when someone approached the counter with what sounded like a bag on wheels – an older man, decidedly more stern than the young mother, taking off a pair of sunglasses to reveal tired and slightly impatient eyes.

“I’ve booked a single room for two nights?” he told Camilla.

“Sure, what’s the name?”

Lance became increasingly aware of his marks whenever people approached the counter. It was no secret that some eyes would notice the blue streaks on Lance’s face, and their gazes would linger, just for a moment. He didn’t blame people for staring, since anyone who hadn’t seen what he’d seen would be curious, and it didn’t change the fact he was liked and respected here.

He’d given a pair of blonde twins a key for a twin room when he finally looked over and caught Camilla’s eye. She was still preoccupied, hands glued to her keyboard, but she turned her head for one moment, and Lance took the opportunity.

“Can we talk when we’re on break?” he asked quietly.

Immediate interest on her face, Camilla nodded.

* * *

“You mean you never mentioned this once, after all the time it's been happening?" Camilla exclaimed over her mug of tea. "You're such an idiot."

Lance rolled his eyes, hands on the counter as he leaned his back against it. “You think weird dreams and headaches are interesting enough to tell your friends about?”

Camilla glared at him over the rim of her mug, the steam rising around her face. “If I thought it was going to do damage, Lance? Yes. I would.”

“It’s not doing _any_ damage. Like I said, they’re just bad headaches and night terrors. I’ve asked the doctor about it, I just have to take my meds.” He paused after that, stroking the back of his neck. “It’s just… last night was the first time I’ve seen anything like _that_ before.”

Camilla placed her tea on the table she was sitting at, before knitting her hands and resting her chin on them. “I won’t pretend I know much about your alien side.”

“It’s not an _alien_ side, it’s…” Lance hesitated, folding his arms. This was an uncomfortable topic to go back to. “It’s something Allura left me as a gift.”

Camilla went quiet for a second. “Well, this gift of yours – it may not make you entirely Altean, but it’s a part of you, and you’ve told me before that sometimes you can feel it inside your body.”

“Yeah, but… it’s never shown itself like that, and I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t think it’s harmful, but it’s sure as hell confusing.”

Camilla nodded again, before taking another sip of tea. “I still say you tell Veronica.”

“I am _not_ telling Veronica,” Lance said slowly and firmly. “I’d never get a moment alone again.”

“She’s your sister, what else do you expect?”

“At twenty-two? Maybe a little breathing space.”

Just from the look Camilla was sending him, Lance knew he was sounding brattish. A part of him wanted to take the words back, but the other part knew he didn’t want someone else on his back all the time. He was pretty sure Camilla didn’t agree with him on that one, especially since she and his sister were friends.

Eventually she sighed, putting her mug down. “It’s your call,” she huffed. “But you know she’ll bite your head off for it later, right?”

“She’d do worse than that. But I’d rather figure out why it’s happening before I tell her.”

Camilla met his eyes and shrugged, before getting to her feet and taking her mug to the sink. “It could mean something significant. It could mean nothing at all. Either way, you’re essentially part-Altean, so you have a right to know why it’s happening.”

“But who would I ask? There aren’t any Alteans on Earth.”

“Are you not in contact with the paladins? They seem like the next best option.”

Lance opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. Technically, he hadn’t been in contact with the team for… well, three years. He wished they could have seen each other since then, but he knew the busy lives they all led, and none of that could come to a standstill for even one reunion.

At least, that’s what he told himself again and again.

“Not really,” he admitted. “Besides, I wouldn’t have the time to get in touch with them when I’m working all the time.”

“Yeah, speaking of work, shouldn’t you both be at the desk?” said a third voice, as someone entered the room.

Lance pointedly avoided the gaze of the man lingering in the doorway: his boss, Owen Langford. He was tall and stick-insect thin, with a thick quiff of black hair and perfect sideburns. Lance always thought he looked like he’d come straight out of a Hollywood film set: the arrogant director with his eyes on the stars, waiting for everyone to make money for him.

His hands were inside his trouser pockets as he stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised impatiently as he waited for an answer.

“We’re going back in a second,” Camilla replied nonchalantly, keeping her back turned as she placed mugs in the cupboards.

“What’s that I hear about getting in touch with people?” asked Owen, stepping further into the room, his gaze suddenly on Lance: enquiring and predatory-like.

“Oh, just some old friends of mine,” Lance said quickly. He didn’t quite know why the sweat was building on his forehead. ‘It’s not important.”

“You sure, Lance?” Owen asked him. “Sounded pretty important to me.”

“We’re going back to work now,” Camilla said from the other side of the room. “Come on, Lance.”

“Because, you know,” Owen continued, as if Camilla hadn’t spoken, “if you’ve got somewhere to be, you really ought to tell me about it. Don’t you think?”

Owen was almost directly in front of him now, and Lance had to avert his gaze, focusing on his feet instead. There was something stopping him from meeting the older man’s eyes – something about his demeanour, and something about past conversations they’d had.

Camilla was used to their boss, it seemed, but Lance couldn’t shake his uneasiness every time Owen approached. Maybe it was the one thing that had stayed with him since he’d been hired.

_Don’t think your background makes you special. You’re no more spectacular than any of my other employees._

“Sure,” he replied, hearing how small his voice sounded. “But, like I said, it’s not important.”

When Lance slowly looked up, Owen was biting his lip, teeth showing as he did so.

“Well, if you change your mind,” the older man said, “you can talk to me about it.”

He slapped Lance’s shoulder a little too roughly, and Lance almost recoiled from the contact. Keenly avoiding his boss’ eyes, he walked around him and joined Camilla as they walked out together. As they strolled down the corridor and down the staircase, Camilla leaned over to whisper to Lance. 

“Don’t listen to him. He’s being an ass, as always.”

Lance didn’t speak for the rest of the journey.

* * *

When they came back to the main lobby, Lance was glad to see the place had gone fairly quiet. The Pinnacle was a well-kept and respected hotel, and even though the summer days were often laborious as he and Camilla were inundated with bookings, there were always moments when the heat died down. Typically, it had to happen when he was on break.

As he approached the counter with Camilla, he regained his smile when he met the eyes of the young boy sitting there.

“Thanks for covering, Gus,” he said, ruffling his black hair as he walked to his seat. “Been busy?”

“Uh, only a little.” Gus was pushing his chair back and getting to his feet in a hurry. He was sixteen, and probably the only person at the hotel with less experience than Lance. He liked Gus. He was good-natured and well-meaning, even if he didn’t always do things in the correct way.

Lance imagined he’d been the same way when he was that age: young and unsure, constantly trying to prove himself.

“You don’t have to look so worried,” he said with a chuckle, noticing the panicked look in Gus’ brown eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Well… I was just wondering what to do about the people outside.”

“What people outside?” asked Camilla.

Lance’s gaze automatically went to the hotel’s doors, where he could definitely see a group through the glass. The sunlight shadowed their figures so he couldn’t make out any faces, but he could glimpse their clothing: bulky armour by the looks of it, with weapons strapped to their sides, and two had hoods over their heads.

That was odd, to say the least. But before Lance could fully ponder it, something dawned on him.

His heartrate skyrocketed, in a mixture of terror and excitement. He barely noticed Gus and Camilla were there anymore, placing a brief hand on Gus’ shoulder, before saying, “Don’t worry, I got it. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Camilla shouted after him as he marched to the hotel doors. His brain was in overdrive – so much that he didn’t notice the people giving him glances as he pushed through the revolving doors, desperate to get out.

Then, sunlight. He had stumbled onto the street, buildings tall and majestic around him, the summer heat right on his forehead. He shielded his eyes from the light with a hand as he gained his bearings, so delirious with excitement and shock he barely avoided colliding with a family of three.

When he turned to his left, he could just about see them there: a cluster of figures; six of them, appearing to be in deep conversation. From that point, Lance knew he hadn’t mistaken the dark uniforms with the broad shoulder-pads, mauve hoods, and glowing purple marks.

Then he noticed someone breaking away from the group: a figure shorter than the others, reaching his hand out preparing to open the hotel door.

But, by chance, he looked in Lance’s direction.

He looked… _different._ His sleek black hair was longer than it used to be, tied back in a ponytail, and a small amount of stubble grew on his jawline – but it was clearly him. The look in his dark eyes was exactly the same.

Lance wanted to smile, but instead he was just staring. Somehow, he managed to utter a single word.

“Keith?"


	2. Part II

Three years.

That was how long it had been since Lance had seen the other paladins. All that time, he’d barely heard anything from them – a few texts from Hunk, one video call from Pidge, but apart from that… nothing. After so long, he was convinced none of them would see each other in-person again.

And yet here was Keith, right in front of him, as real as anything. So much about him had changed from when Lance last saw him. His hair had grown out so much his ponytail brushed his collarbone, and his shoulders were broader than they used to be. Just the way he carried himself was different. No longer did Lance see him as a fellow paladin, but someone who was born to be a leader; a commanding gait in his walk as he recognized Lance and began to walk towards him.

He suddenly saw images of the black lion and a boy in red armour, and he had to snap out of his reverie when he noticed the genuine smile on Keith’s face when he reached him.

“Hey,” Keith said calmly. For a moment, Lance thought he was about to hug him, but when that didn’t happen, Lance had to clear his throat and reply.

“Uh, hey,” he said with a small voice.

Keith was silent.

Funny. If Lance ever thought he’d run into anyone from Voltron, he wouldn’t have expected it to feel this awkward. Three years was a long time, and it was like they’d forgotten how to address each other.

He tried to keep talking, his mouth bone-dry from the shock.

“Wow, uh… what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you for so long and… huh.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. He probably looked pathetic right now, in his fancy button-shirt and trousers, not knowing how to speak, while Keith stood there all intimidating and warrior-like in his Blade uniform, and… shit, had he grown _again_? 

There was stubble growing around his chin and jawline; only subtle, but it was there. He still had the Galra mark on the side of his face, perhaps fainter than before, but still a reminder of his heritage. There was also a new mark: not Galran, but a small red cut under his left eye.

Lance wanted to ask questions, not just about how Keith got the cut, but about _everything_. For example, what have you been doing these last few years? Why are you here without warning? Would it have killed you to send _one_ text?

Instead of asking any of that, he settled for, “How’re you doing?”

Keith’s smile began to fade. “Uh, I’m pretty tired,” he admitted, stroking the back of his neck. “Long ride here.”

“Why _are_ you here?” Lance asked.

“Oh, we were just… we were nearby,” Keith said, eyes avoiding Lance’s. “We need a place to stay, so…” He nodded at the hotel, making Lance understand. It was almost laughable – the number of hotels he could come to and he chose the one Lance happened to be working in?

Then his eyes rolled over Lance’s clothes, and after a few seconds, it finally dawned on him. “Are you… _working_ here?”

“Yeah, I am,” Lance said, smugly. “This has been my job for the last few months.”

Keith was staring like he didn’t believe him. “You didn’t stay at the farm?”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, for a bit, but then I wanted something different. A fresh start, you know?”

“I… I guess. I just wouldn’t have pegged you for…” Keith seemed to reconsider what he was about to say, then shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. So, what do you do here?”

Lance smiled. “Oh, I work at reception. Check people in and out, hand out keys, show them their rooms, that sort of thing.”

Keith blinked. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Lance asked with a frown. “I enjoy it and it pays the bills.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He folded his arms and glanced at the ground, more closely resembling his younger self. “Sorry.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Did you just _apologize_ to me? Are you sure you’re the real Keith?”

Keith grinned, pushing hair back from his eyes. “I don’t know, Lance. Maybe I changed?”

“You haven’t changed much. I mean, come on, you _still_ never bothered to cut the hair off?” he asked, pointing at the thing itself. “What is this, Mullet 2.0?”

Just as he’d pushed all his bangs away from his face, Keith burst into laughter: genuine laughter, a bright smile lighting up his face. It was then that it occurred to Lance that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Keith laugh – probably because it rarely happened, so to see it was unusual, but also… kind of nice?

He pushed that odd thought away just as Keith stopped laughing. The smile was still present on his face as he looked at Lance.

“It’s good to see you,” he said softly.

Lance was taken aback by those words, but he couldn’t help but be swayed by them. Three years was a long time, and no matter how much he’d convinced himself that Keith wasn’t his closest friend, he realised how good it was to hear something like that from an old teammate.

Holding that thought, he smiled back. “Yeah, you too.”

There was a long pause that followed, where Lance could feel the heat of the sun pressing down on his back. What else was he supposed to say? Maybe he should ask why he was here, apart from the obvious.

Before he could even consider it, someone tall came up behind Keith and slapped him on the back, nearly pushing him over.

“Are you done gossiping?” asked the Galran woman, grinning with all her sharp teeth.

Lance recognized her as Zethrid, and instinctively stepped back a pace. He’d forgotten how intimidating she was, and thought he had good reason to still be unnerved, even if the bad blood between them had gone.

Keith looked mildly irritated as he turned to look at her, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m having a conversation,” he told her calmly. “Are _you_ done hitting me?”

“Force of habit, boss,” she said gruffly. “Forget you’re too small to take it.” 

Keith didn’t seem to find it funny. “Try remembering next time. You know who you’re talking to, right?”

At that point, Zethrid didn’t argue further, stubbornly folding her arms and looking away as the other Blades approached. Lance recognized both Acxa and Ezor, but the other two were strangers, faces partly shadowed by the hoods on their heads. Lance didn’t like the way Ezor was smiling at him – her eyes were round, inquisitive and lizard-like. It was like she was deciding whether or not to squash him between her two fingers.

“Long time no see, lion boy,” she said, slinging her arm around Zethrid’s shoulders. “You haven’t changed much, have you? Maybe a little taller, but that’s about it.”

“Uh, hey,” Lance managed to say, raising an awkward hand.

Ezor snickered. “You don’t have to look so scared.”

“I’m not…”

“Come on, give him a break,” Keith interrupted. “Listen, I know this is a weird thing to ask,” he said to Lance, “but we’re staying on Earth for a few nights. Do you have free rooms in your hotel?”

Lance hesitated, trying to remember what they had available. More to the point, how many rooms would they need? Three? Four? Maybe even five? The summer months had been hectic so far, often driving Lance and Camilla to near-insanity. He knew the hotel was almost full, but the way Keith was looking at him – it made it impossible to turn him down.

Besides, since Lance worked in the hotel, he’d be able to pull a few strings.

“Sure, man, not a problem!” he chirped. “Come on in and we’ll figure something out.”

* * *

It was admittedly hard for Lance not to feel self-conscious as he led the Blades into the lobby. He felt bad just for thinking that way, since it wasn’t like aliens never came to the hotel. Since the war ended and the coalition was formed, Earth had been open to all kinds of species, so it was not rare that various races would pass through or come for a holiday – some had even chosen Earth as their permanent home.

Still, this didn’t mean all humans were willing to change their narrow perspectives. And unfortunately, the size and appearance of the Blade of Marmora was enough to stun onlookers. Heads turned to stare at the figures behind Lance with fearful eyes. In a way, he couldn’t entirely blame them. If you’d never seen Galra before, their heights alone were enough to intimidate anyone.

Lance tried to keep his expression neutral as he led them to the counter. Camilla was handing keys to a middle-aged man who was making conversation with her. “I do love your accent,” Lance caught the man saying, hearing that he was British. “Where are you from?”

“Thank you. Born and raised in Italy. I moved here when I was eight,” Camilla explained, tapping her pen on the counter and looking less than enthused.

“So you’re in America full-time now?” the man asked.

“Yep,” Camilla said simply. She was starting to drum her nails on the counter, an impatient gesture. Lance knew she hated when people started asking about her background, even if no harm was meant by it, and honestly, he could empathize more than most.

The man was eventually left in an awkward silence he couldn’t get out of, so he took his key, gave her a polite nod, before striding away as if in a rush. At that point, Camilla finally turned and noticed Lance with the group – and her whole body seemed to freeze, eyes growing huge as she stared at the tall figures behind Lance.

“Uh, Lance, what’s… what’s going on?”

“It’s okay, I know them.”

He gestured to Keith on his right. “This is Keith. He was the pilot of the Black Lion in Voltron.”

At this revelation, Camilla’s eyes seemed to grow impossibly wider. “Wait. _You’re_ Keith?” she asked, staring like she couldn’t believe he was real.

Keith shot Lance an uncertain gaze before answering. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Oh, my god, that’s… wow.” She was laughing nervously, seemingly starstruck, before she stood up and stuck her hand over the counter. “Hi-I’m-Camilla-nice-to-meet you!”

Lance covered his mouth to hide his laugh, and as for Keith, he looked characteristically hesitant as he slowly shook her hand.

“Same to you,” he said.

“And, um… who are your other friends, Lance?” she asked, tucking her curls behind her ears and getting her breath back.

 _Friends is kind of a strong word_ , he wanted to say. “Oh, these guys? The Blade of Marmora, the aid group I told you about.”

Camilla’s eyes glowed as she remembered, and she met the gazes of the soldiers behind Lance with a professional smile. “Of course. I’ve heard all about it. You guys do amazing work.”

“Eh, it’s no biggie, but yeah, we do a pretty good job,” Ezor said smugly, resting her arm on Zethrid’s shoulder.

Camilla seemed to find this hilarious, then remembered herself and cleared her throat. “So, um, will you be staying with us?”

“Yeah, I thought we could get them a few rooms?” Lance answered for them. “Since I know them and I like to think they’re good pals,” – a snort from Zethrid – “I thought we could pull some strings, and get them good rooms?”

Camilla seemed unsure. “I … I guess that would be fine,” she said slowly, “but are you planning on telling Owen that?”

“Is there a rule on telling Owen everything we do?” Lance asked slyly.

Camilla still looked concerned, biting a fingernail as she mulled it over. “I… I don’t know, Lance, I’m not sure if…”

“You really want to turn them down?”

“No, no, I wasn’t…” she said quickly, aware of the Blades’ eyes on her. After a moment, she sighed and leaned towards her computer. “I’ll check what we have,” she said, eyebrows joined in concentration, bracelet jingling around her wrist as she typed.

As she tapped away, Lance felt a nudge at his side and turned to see Keith looking at him. “There are other places we can stay if you’re too busy,” he tried to say. “We don’t want to be a burden.”

“No, it’s okay, man, seriously!” Lance assured him with a pat on the arm. Truthfully, he didn’t like the idea of Keith disappearing as soon as he’d arrived. If anything, he wanted to know what he’d been up to and have some of his questions answered.

So, yeah, maybe his motives for having the Blades stay here weren’t _entirely_ professional.

“I think we have a few suites available,” Camilla piped up, eyes still fixed on her computer screen. She tore her gaze away to send a questioning gaze to Keith. “Depends if you guys are okay with sharing.”

“Definitely cool for me to share with Ezor,” Zethrid immediately answered, hugging Ezor closer to her side and earning a coy smile.

“How many rooms _do_ you have?” asked Keith.

Camilla checked her screen. “Well, we have three doubles that would work for all of you. if everyone wants to share. Or I have two single rooms at the top floor if anyone _doesn’t_ fancy sharing.”

“Okay, well, Ezor and Zethrid can share; I’m pretty sure Scarlex and Zaden don’t mind having a room together?” He turned to the pair of Galra on Lance’s left, faces more visible in the room’s light.

They were male and female, and Lance guessed from the names that Scarlex was the female. She had honey-golden eyes under her hood and a set of berry-red hair that fell in straight locks by her collarbone. Zaden was less human looking, two fangs visible as they poked over his bottom lip, piercing yellow slits for eyes, and rich purple skin. Lance couldn’t see signs of any hair poking out from the hood. The similarities between their facial structures and eyes made Lance guess they were siblings.

Both nodded silently in reply to Keith, almost in unison.

Little bit creepy, Lance thought.

“Great, so, Keith,” Camilla continued, eyes fixed on her screen, “would you mind sharing with… sorry, what’s your name?”

“It’s Acxa.” Her voice was as mellow and detached, as always, but carried a commanding air, something that showed she shouldn’t be messed with. Lance suddenly felt nervous hearing her voice so close to his ear.

“Right. Did you want to share a room with Keith?” asked Camilla.

Before Acxa could answer, Keith jumped in. “Actually, I was wondering if I could take one of the single rooms?”

There was a brief silence that followed, in which several eyes landed on Keith. Lance felt something unspoken hanging in the air, between the group; something he had no knowledge of.

Keith folded his arms and lowered his gaze to the floor. “I just sleep better when I have a room to myself. It’s not personal, it’s just my preference.”

Camilla nodded with a polite beam, oblivious to the tension. “Sure, I get that. I’ll put you both in the single rooms. Is that all right, Acxa?”

A pause before the Galran woman answered. “Yes. Fine.”

Lance’s discomfort grew upon hearing her tone. She looked like she was ready to cut Camilla up with her knife.

“Okay, all booked up,” Camilla chirped as she jabbed a final button on her keyboard. “I got you luxury suites with plenty of room.”

“Told you it wouldn’t be a problem,” Lance said to Keith with a smirk. That was enough to make the other boy smile, even if it was only small. He seemed distracted by his own thoughts.

When Camilla began passing fob keys over the counter, Lance took it upon himself to give Keith his.

“So, this room you’ve got,” he began after seeing the number on the fob, “it’s at the top of the hotel and it’s a bummer to find on your own. Want me to walk you there?”

“Uh, sure,” Keith replied. Still distracted, it seemed. “But… are you sure you won’t get us lost?” he added with a sudden glint in his eye.

Lance spluttered, putting his hands on his hips. “Okay, smartass, I’m actually pretty good at my job.”

“So you _definitely_ didn’t get lost on your first day here?”

“No, why would I--?”

“Like you did the first night in the castle?”

The comeback stung, but it didn’t stop Lance from scoffing and giving Keith a shove. “You never stopped being a jerk, did you?”

“Guess not,” Keith said, smile large and fond. It was still weird to see him smile that way, because it just never happened. Ever.

Someone cleared their throat from beside him, and Lance was knocked out of his stupor, seeing Camilla glare at him from her chair.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” she said, “we _both_ man this desk. I can’t manage on my own for long.”

“I’ll be one minute, I promise.”

Camilla narrowed her eyes. “Well, if you’re making yourself useful, why don’t you show _all_ the Blades to their rooms?”

Lance’s stomach sank when he locked eyes with the group, who still seemed less than friendly. He didn’t particularly want to, but the obligation of his job left him no choice.

“Uh, sure,” he eventually said. “Most of you are on the middle floor. We’ll go there first, but fair warning: may be a little tight in the elevator.

“Suits me,” Zethrid said boorishly, making Ezor snigger into her chest.

Lance wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her comment.

* * *

‘A little tight’ had been a major understatement on Lance’s part.

Five half-Galra soldiers, along with Keith and Lance, crammed into the elevator made it feel like a can of sardines – Lance was lodged snugly between Zethrid and Acxa, their hard shoulders pressing into his, and all he could do was keep his head down and wait for the torturously long journey to end.

Lance chose one moment to sneak a glance at Keith, who stood behind him. When Keith met his eyes, he smiled again, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. Lance had never noticed those dimples that formed in his cheeks when he smiled.

When a ‘beep!’ finally sounded, Lance couldn’t get out of there fast enough, squeezing his way through the open doors and taking the group along the corridor. They reached the first room fairly quickly, and Lance had barely handed over the key to Zethrid before the door was unlocked and her large hands were on Ezor’s waist and pushing her inside, making her squeak with laughter.

“Thanks,” Zethrid said with a grin, before she heaved her rucksack over her shoulders and followed Ezor inside. He could hear muffled laughter behind the door as it swung shut.

“You get used to them,” Keith murmured to Lance as they continued walking. 

“I think they’re out for my blood or something,” Lance replied with a shudder.

“They’re like that with everyone.”

“Except you, right?”

Keith considered this. “They try to get on my nerves. Doesn’t usually work out.”

“Ooh, _scary_ ,” Lance teased.

He stopped by a new door and put down the small bags he’d been carrying. “This is, uh… your room, by the way,” he said to the Galra siblings, who stared soullessly at him from behind their hoods, before taking the bags. The woman, Scarlex, muttered a ‘thank you’, before disappearing with her brother.

“They seem friendly, too,” Lance whispered sarcastically as the door closed. Keith fell into step beside him as they continued down the corridor, Acxa close behind them.

“They’re orphans. Non-identical twins,” explained Keith. “They signed up recently. It was sort of out of the blue, but they fought for the Empire and wanted to fix their mistakes, so I couldn’t say no to them.”

“Oh.” Lance thought on that for a moment, surprised at the origin. He found it admirable that former Galran soldiers were redeeming themselves, but it was still strange to think about where they’d started from. What if, a long time ago, he’d looked into Scarlex or Zaden’s eyes during one of his battles? What if they’d come close to killing him once, or the other way around?

But there had been so many battles that he couldn’t possibly remember, and why should he? Things were different now. They were no longer enemies.

“Orphans, huh?” he asked, as he rounded the corner and took the pair up a flight of stairs.

“Yeah. Their family died in an explosion,” Keith added solemnly.

“Oh, man. That’s… that’s horrible,” he admitted, guilt curling in his gut. He felt bad for even beginning to question them. Losing his family – he couldn’t imagine the emptiness he would feel if he lost even one of them.

“Yeah, well, it was a long time ago,” Keith deflected. “They don’t talk about it, so we don’t ask.”

Lance didn’t know what to say anymore, so left the subject there. He was aware of Acxa’s gaze on him as they reached the top of the stairs and headed down anew corridor. A maid was walking towards them with a bag of laundry in her hand, shooting Lance a warm smile as she went past.

“Morning, Lance.”

“Morning, Lyra.”

She seemed to recognize Keith before she disappeared down the corridor, her beam replaced by a shocked gape in his direction. When Lance snuck a glance behind him, Lyra was still staring. She turned away when she realised she’d been caught.

“You’re like a celebrity around here,” Lance snickered into Keith’s ear.

Keith glanced at him uncomfortably. “I don’t want to be seen like that.”

“That’s too bad, you’re getting the looks anyway. What else did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” Keith went quiet for a few more steps. “ _You_ don’t seem to get any looks.”

Lance let out a laugh. “That’s because I work here,” he said, as if it was obvious.

Keith frowned. “Why should that matter?”

Lance was trying to think of an answer for that when he realised the room he was looking for was directly beside him.

“Oh _,_ Acxa, this is your room,” he said, turning and pointing her in the right direction.

“Thanks,” Acxa replied, her scowl ever-present.

“It can get drafty in this one so let me know if it’s a problem,” he said to her. “Otherwise, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she said, again. She didn’t look him in the eye once as she held the fob against the reader. “I’ll see you later, Keith.”

“Yeah. See you later.”

Once Acxa had closed the door behind her, Lance checked Keith’s reaction. The older boy had his gaze planted on the carpeted floor, eyebrows knitted together. Lance knew that look. There was something he was withholding, and he was determined to keep his thoughts private, no matter who would try and talk them out of him.

Impatiently, Lance folded his arms, almost mirroring Keith exactly. “Dude. That was kind of cold,” he said.

Keith blinked out of his trance, staring at Lance incredulously. “What?”

“You didn’t want to share with her and you don’t even say sorry for it? I know you like your privacy, but… isn’t that overkill?”

Keith fixed him with a sharp glare. “I wanted my own space, is that so hard to believe?” he snapped.

“Well, _no_. It’s just… you…” Lance shook his head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Come on, your room’s further down.”

They walked in silence after that, and Lance wondered if he shouldn’t have put pressure on Keith like that. At the same time, he was a little vexed. Was he really going to be defensive like he always had, not even answering simple questions? Still, he thought it was wise to respect boundaries for now. If there was a problem, Keith would talk about it when he was ready. It wasn’t as if he’d open up to Lance, of all people.

“Well, this is you,” Lance said, when they’d reached the right door.

“Okay,” Keith said quietly, toying with his fob key. He seemed reluctant to open the door.

“You want help with your bags?” asked Lance.

“No. It’s fine,” Keith replied. He still wasn’t looking at him.

Lance nodded, shuffling his feet, the silence dragging out for longer than he was comfortable with.

“Okay, well… I’ll be downstairs, then.”

Lance turned to leave, despite the tight feeling in his chest. He’d only walked a few steps when Keith’s voice suddenly stopped him. “Lance, wait.”

When he turned around, Keith was walking rapidly towards him, and when he reached him, he could see the guilt etched onto his face.

“I… I’m sorry I snapped,” he said softly, playing with his sleeve. “I appreciate you letting us stay here.”

Unable to hold a grudge, Lance gave him a small smile. “No problem.”

“It’s… it’s been kind of a long journey,” Keith continued, running a hand through his hair, his breathing low and shaky. He was exhausted – that much was obvious. “I guess it’s affecting me more than I realised.”

“Sure, I get it,” Lance said, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

They stood quietly for a few moments, Lance half-expecting Keith to say something else, to explain himself further, but he didn’t. He was stubbornly silent, arms folding again like a shield in front of his heart.

Lance found himself wanting to put an arm around him. Something about Keith seemed vulnerable, as if the smiles he’d shown in the lobby had been an image he was putting on to hide his true feelings. It wasn’t just the tension between the Blades that seemed to be bothering him. There was something else, Lance guessed. The paleness of Keith’s cheeks, the cut above his eye, the hunch in his shoulders as he avoided Lance’s gaze: they were telling a story, but Lance didn’t know what the story was.

“If you want to talk about anything,” he began, “you know you can talk to me, right?”

After hearing this, Keith seemed to perk up, meeting his gaze. Lance was unexpectedly drawn to his eyes – the way they held that vulnerability, the crack in his demeanour threatening to shatter.

“I know,” Keith answered, seeming surprised at Lance’s question.

“I mean, I know I’m not Shiro,” Lance continued, “and I’m probably the _last_ person on your list of people you want to talk to.”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling more uncomfortable by the second, but he had Keith’s full attention, so he carried on.

“But, you know, we’re here now, under the same roof, and we’re still part of the same team, right?” he asked.

Keith’s expression didn’t change, his dark eyes fixed on him, lips parted slightly.

“I’m… I’m here if you need anything. That’s all I’m saying.”

Lance stared at his feet, already wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. After a moment, Keith began to smirk.

“You’re laughing at me,” Lance stated, trying to ignore the hurt in his chest.

But Keith was shaking his head, smile still on his lips.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “It’s just…” He looked up at him again, eyes sparkling. “You’re not the last on my list. I’m glad I can talk to you.”

He paused, seemingly nervous. “You’re enough, Lance. More than enough.”

Lance blinked, processing the words and going silent. He’d never expected words like that from Keith, and something about his fond gaze was rooting him to the spot, holding his attention for a long moment. He felt an odd warmth in his chest… and then the hiss of radio static startled them both.

“ _Lance, where are you?!_ ” shouted Camilla’s distorted voice through Lance’s receiver. He fished his walkie-talkie out of his pocket and held it to his mouth.

“Sorry, I’ll be down in two seconds!” he replied.

“ _Make that ONE second! It’s crazy down here!_ ” Camilla snapped, before the line went quiet.

Lance cleared his throat and pocketed the device. “Sorry. I’ve got to get back to work,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” Keith said. “I should unpack.”

Lance took a step back, ready to leave, but something held him back: the feeling that there was something unfinished; something else he wanted to say. And then the question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Do you want to come over later?”

Keith looked stunned. “Come over?” he asked, flicking his long hair out of his eye.

“Yeah, I’ve got an apartment with Veronica nearby,” Lance explained, the words rushing out of him. “You should come over. Bring the others if you want.”

“I…” Keith looked torn, his gaze flitting back to the floor. “I don’t know if they’d be up for that.”

“It doesn’t _matter_ , come anyway! Veronica’s in the cocktail business now, so she’ll cook up something great. It’ll help you relax, trust me.”

Keith contemplated this, gnawing on his bottom lip. When he seemed to make his mind up, he smiled gratefully. “Okay. That sounds good.”

“Cool! Cam can probably give us a lift.” He said as he began to walk backwards. “So, I’ll see you around six? I should be done by then.”

“Sure,” Keith said with a nod.

“You’ve got to spill on your space adventures!” Lance called through cupped hands when he was at the other end of the corridor.

Keith chuckled in the distance as he moved towards his door. “I will.”

“And on all the exotic foods!”

“Sure.”

“And the drinks!”

“Lance, just _go_!” Keith called with a laugh.

“Okay, okay! Later!” Lance went out with a hearty salute, earning another laugh from Keith before he turned the corner and hurried down the stairs.

“On my way, Cam,” he said into his receiver. He felt slightly guilty for abandoning her, but right now, his mind was more preoccupied with the image of Keith’s smile and the sound of his laughter before he’d left him.

* * *

The rest of Lance’s shift passed fairly quickly, mainly due to the vast number of people checking in. He and Camilla had been driven close to the edge dealing with what felt like hundreds of people at once, and four hours of nothing but that had left Lance with a fresh sheen of sweat across his forehead. He felt gross, the patches of moisture on his shirt obvious.

Camilla seemed exhausted too, but somehow still managed to look pristine. In the staff room, she was putting her phone and notepads in her handbag, hair slightly frizzled, but otherwise, she was still the perfect, glossy woman who had walked into work that morning. Lance stood by the counter as he downed a glass of ice-cold water, the moisture a relief for his dry throat. Camilla seemed to be struggling finding something in her handbag, digging through with both her hands.

“You’re going to hate me if I ask for a favour,” Lance said after wiping his mouth.

Camilla paused in her rummaging, looking up with a scowl. “What is it?” she asked impatiently.

Lance put his glass by the sink, leaning back against the counter. “Can you give me a lift home?”

Camilla blinked, her glare softening. “Sure? I drive you home all the time.”

“I know, but… I invited Keith to my place tonight. Would you mind taking him too?”

At that moment, Camilla’s tired frown morphed into a mischievous grin. “Oh, yeah?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Having a slumber party, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously. Why are you inviting him over?”

Lance stared at her, incredulous. “What do you mean, _why_? He’s a friend.”

Camilla sighed, swinging her handbag over her shoulder. “Listen, Lance, you may be dumb and blind, but I’m not. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

At that point, Lance was more than confused. “Looking at… _what_?”

Camilla snorted. “Put it this way: he had the biggest heart-eyes I’ve ever seen. My last boyfriend used to stare at me like that when he thought I wasn’t looking. I don’t even know Keith, but I know that look when I see it. It’s like as soon as he starts talking to you, he lights up. I know it sounds corny, but it’s true. Trust me.”

Lance could only gape at her, hands gripping the counter behind him, like he would keel over any moment. It was like a tidal wave had washed over him, leaving him completely cold.

Was she implying that Keith was… that he actually…?

“No, no, no, no,” Lance rebutted, shaking his head. “Keith doesn’t… no. He doesn’t…”

Camilla was smirking as if she found the whole thing hilarious. “Doesn’t what?” she asked, daring him to argue.

Lance’s brain was at a stand-still, words not forming on his tongue.

“He… he _hates_ me!” he eventually stammered. “You don’t know what it was like – we argued all the time when we were in space, we had this rivalry thing, it was… we were…”

“Lance. I don’t care what happened in space. He clearly doesn’t hate you.”

“But it’s not like _that_!”

“Oh, really?” Camilla’s earrings clinked as she cocked her head. “Constant bickering, years of travelling together, and then you reunite with big smiles and sexual tension? Sounds like every romance novel I’ve read.”

“ _Oh my god, there’s no sexual tension, what is wrong with you_ ,” Lance immediately cringed, turning to hide his burning cheeks.

“All I’m saying is,” Camilla laughed, “I _know_ things, and I know people. I only had to take one look before I knew what he was thinking. Maybe you don’t believe it’s true because he’s been good at hiding it all this time?”

That was enough to stump Lance. The more he tried to think of arguments, the more he worried Camilla was making sense. He thought about Keith – about their memories from the beginning: the rivalry, before the teammates, before the friendship. Lance had thought nothing of the glances Keith would send him now and again, but now…?

_“You’re enough, Lance. More than enough.”_

Oh, boy.

“You’re insane,” he retorted to Camilla.

Camilla was still laughing. “You’re getting it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not getting anything!” Lance snapped, as he busied himself drying glasses. “I said you’re insane.”

“Sure, I am.” Lance heard her footsteps move towards the door before she paused. “You still want that lift?”

He put a glass in the top cupboard before turning back to her. She was standing by the doorframe, clutching the strap of her handbag and smiling.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t say anything,” he told her.

“Now, why would I do that?” she asked, her eyes mischievous and cat-like. “I’ll be outside.”

He nodded absent-mindedly as she walked out, his thoughts a flurried mess. Half of him didn’t believe anything Camilla had said. She was probably overthinking and had seen something that wasn’t there, the hopeless romantic that she was.

But the other half of Lance couldn’t help panicking.

After all, this was _Keith_. He couldn’t be… And for _Lance_? No way. It just wasn’t like that. It never had been.

He rubbed his face with both hands. His body ached from his day, and now his head did too. For now, he wasn’t going to let the thoughts bother him. He was exhausted anyway, and this wasn’t doing him any favours. He checked the room was tidy enough before he grabbed his satchel and turned off the lights, heading into the lobby to wait for Keith.

He didn’t have to wait long. After only a couple of minutes, Keith came walking down the stairs, his Marmoran suit abandoned for a casual t-shirt, black denim jacket with silver buttons, and tight skinny jeans. For a moment, Lance was short of breath, Camilla’s words rushing back all at once.

“Hey,” Keith greeted, forcing Lance to look at him as he approached. He had the same gentle smile on his face, looking unexpectedly cool in his outfit, with his sleek hair tied back.

_“You’re more than enough.”_

_Oh my God, brain, shut up_!

“Uh, hey. Hey, _you_ ,” Lance stuttered, his panic starting to resurface.

Keith chuckled. “Hey? Am I late?”

“No, no, bang on time,” Lance said, his voice stuck at the bottom of his throat.

“Great.” Keith looked him up and down, eyebrows arching. “Um… you okay?”

 _Yeah, totally fine, my friend told me you might have a crush on me, but no biggie!_ Lance inwardly screamed.

He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself. “Yeah, yeah, fine. I’m just, uh… tired. You know?”

“Yeah. You seem it,” Keith agreed bluntly. “No offense,” he quickly said with raised hands.

“It’s okay, I know I’m a mess,” Lance admitted, feeling the unbearable moist of his shirt sticking to his skin. “Got to get out of these clothes when we’re home.”

When he realised exactly what he’d just said and noticed Keith’s sheepish grin, he quickly changed the subject. _God, what is wrong with me?_

“So, uh, Camilla’s going to drive us. She’s waiting outside.”

“Great,” smiled Keith.

Lance paused and looked around. “None of your crew coming?” he asked.

“I think they had other plans,” Keith said, scratching his jaw where most of the stubble grew. “The twins and Acxa are staying here to rest; Ezor and Zethrid said something about… going to a bar.”

“So, not your scene then?”

“No, strangely enough,” Keith said with a chuckle.

The smile was still catching Lance off-guard, so different to the usual brooding glares. He cleared his throat again.

“So, shall we go?” Lance asked quickly.

“Sure. How far is your apartment?”

“An hour on the train, just under when Camilla drives me,” he said as they walked to the doors. Lance returned the wave from another colleague at the desk (who he knew vaguely from the one and only work party he’d attended) before pushing the doors open. Even though it was early evening, Lance immediately felt the thickness of the summer heat on him – not as intense as the daytime spell, but not cool enough to be refreshing.

Camilla’s car was a grapefruit-coloured Fiat, and was parked a little further down the sidewalk. When they found it, Camilla herself was leaning against the bonnet, talking to someone on the phone. She was speaking Italian, shouting some impatient words and shaking her head, but when she saw Lance and Keith approaching, she mumbled a goodbye before shoving the phone in her back pocket.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just Mamma, checking up as always. You ready to go?”

“Sure, but can I pick the music again?” asked Lance excitedly.

She immediately frowned. “ _No_.”

“Oh, come on, I have better taste than you.”

“Indie rock is not _bad taste_ , Lance,” Camilla snapped.

“Too bad, _I_ sit in the front, so _I_ pick the music. You have to concentrate on the road, remember?”

“Oh, I thought you guys might sit in the back?” Camilla asked, looking deliberately confused.

Lance fixed her with a warning glare as she smiled at Keith. “Hi, Keith. Is your room okay?”

“Uh… it’s great. Thanks.”

“If you want, you could sit in the front and help me shove Lance in the back where he belongs?” she said with a wink at Lance.

“I, uh… I don’t mind,” Keith replied, shoving a hand in his pocket.

“Okay, okay, we’ll sit in the back,” Lance said with his hands in the air. “It’s more comfortable anyway.”

“You will be missed,” Camilla smiled, before opening the door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“But I still get to pick the music!” Lance reminded her as she shut the door.

* * *

“And you say _I_ have bad taste, Lance?”

“This isn’t bad taste, how dare you!” Lance exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat. He heard a snicker from Keith at his side.

“But isn’t it like, a decade old?” asked Camilla, her figure a silhouette against the windscreen. Her eyes were focused on the road in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, so? I love it!” Lance argued.

“Lance is a Katy Perry fan. Don’t know why I didn’t guess sooner.”

“You’ll learn to love it.” Lance leaned back in his seat as he finished typing a text to Veronica. After a moment, he snuck a glance at Keith, who was staring out of the window, seemingly absorbed by the lights of the city as they drove through the streets.

Lance wondered what he was thinking as he sat there so quietly, so distantly. He wanted to talk, ask what was wrong, but he didn’t know how to begin. Not with Camilla there. Lance was so distracted by his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Keith returning his gaze, at which point Lance turned back to his phone, pretending to scroll through his news feed.

“Okay, fine,” Camilla piped up a moment later, “I admit it. Catchy tune, positive lyrics. I could get into it.”

“See? You don’t know what you’re missing,” Lance said smugly.

Regardless of how _great_ the song was, Camilla soon changed the music to her own taste; gentle guitar melodies with rough male vocals. Pleasant and calming, for sure, but Lance would take cheesy pop hits over that any day. After only one song, Camilla suddenly turned down the volume.

“So, Keith, what brings you back to Earth after so long?” she asked.

Lance tensed as he glanced at Keith, who seemed to be startled out of a daydream.

“Oh, it’s… just a visit,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll probably be gone after a few days.”

Lance felt a jolt of disappointment in his stomach. A few days? He’d failed to bring that up until now.

“It’s a busy life, I guess?” asked Camilla conversationally.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Lance stared at Keith, waiting for him to elaborate. But he just _wouldn’t_. He leaned his head into his palm as he went back to gazing at the streets. He really did look tired, lines around his eyes more noticeable in the amber streetlights as they danced along his skin.

“Why can’t you stay longer?” Lance blurted out – not the first time that day something had come out of his mouth by accident.

Keith met his stare, blinked, before he eventually spoke. “Because we have more missions. People who need our help. We can only have a short break before getting back out there.”

“I get that part,” Lance said, an irritation forming in his gut, “but you never _warned_ anyone you were showing up, you just… showed up? And now you’re saying you’re only around for a few days?”

“We can’t plan ahead that easily, Lance, and the missions take priority. You should know that, of all people,” Keith added with an offended glare.

“Of course I know, but…” Lance sighed heavily, folding his arms and staring ahead. “I haven’t heard from anyone in _three years_ and it’s been hard, getting used to that. And then one day you just appear out of the blue?”

“I wanted to contact you,” Keith said calmly, “but being on other planets a lot, light-years away, it’s not easy to get hold of people on Earth. I tried to. More than once.”

“So you’ve been on planets for _all three_ of those years? Without one break? All this time you’ve been in places where phone signals don’t exist; you couldn’t send a text even _once_?”

Lance slowly realised his voice had grown louder with each word, his exasperation boiling over. Keith was staring at him in disbelief.

“Why are you making this a problem?” he snapped. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, great timing,” Lance muttered, gnawing on his bottom lip as he looked away. He could feel Keith’s eyes boring into his neck. 

“You’re so—"

“Oh, look, we’re here!” Camilla quickly chirped, nervous eyes meeting Lance’s in the rear-view mirror.

No-one spoke for a good few moments, just before the car slowed and carefully rolled onto the sidewalk, outside the block Lance had called home for the last couple of months. He glanced at the familiar building, which stood tall and proud against the navy sky, spotless and modern, windows glimmering as streetlights bounced off the glass. Camilla turned off the music, then the engine, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence.

Lance sighed and undid his seatbelt.

“Thanks for the lift, Cam,” he said as he leaned down to grab his bag.

“Yeah, thanks,” Keith quietly echoed. They didn’t look at each other. “Nice to meet you, by the way.”

“No problem. Great to meet you too,” Camilla said warmly, as Keith opened the door and climbed out.

 _Geez, don’t wait up_ , Lance thought as the door was slammed. Before he could leave, Camilla spoke without turning around. “Hold it right there.”

Lance stilled as she shuffled in her seat to turn and fix her firm eyes on him. “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

“ _Me_?”

“Don’t get defensive. You haven’t seen him in three years and your plan is to start arguments?”

“I wasn’t the one who—”

“No, Lance. _Stop_. You’ll regret it if you handle it like this.” She took a breath before continuing, like she was worried about overstepping. “Look, I get you feel angry, but if he’s leaving in a few days, then you only have a short time to talk things over. And you clearly need to talk – _properly_ , without snapping or point-scoring.”

“What exactly are we supposed to talk about? asked Lance, indignant.

“That’s up to you, not me. Anyway, go, quick, I have to get home.”

“See you in the morning,” Lance muttered as he opened the door.

“You owe me a cappuccino!” Camilla reminded him as he left.

When he walked around the car to the sidewalk, Keith was waiting for him but keenly avoiding his gaze. “Nice place,” he muttered when Lance reached his side.

Somehow Lance didn’t think he meant it, staying silent as he fished his key from his pocket. Fortunately, his apartment was on the ground floor, which meant only a short walk to his door. Lance hated the silence between them, after everything had gone so well up until this point.

He could just say sorry, if it made things easier, but he didn’t think he was the one who owed an apology. If Camilla had heard him say that, she’d be slapping him on the arm right now.

Whatever. He would be civil tonight for Veronica’s sake, and because he didn’t have the energy to act any other way.

“Lance.”

Keith’s voice was firm by his side, stopping Lance before he unlocked the door. He looked over reluctantly, surprised that Keith was meeting his gaze head-on this time.

“I don’t want to argue,” he said. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Lance muttered. “So we’re going to forget about it, right?”

He swiped his card against the reader and the door clicked open. Keith watched glumly as Lance pushed the handle down, shoving a hand in his pocket as the door opened.

“Right,” he sighed, as he followed him in.

* * *

The front door opened into the main living room – a huge carpeted space lit by tall lamps, the seating area filling a quarter of the room. Next to it was a tiny kitchen, occupied by a corner counter, sink, microwave, and fridge. There were clothes strewn about the sofa, laced shoes dumped near the door, which Lance nearly tripped over as he walked in.

“Veronica!” he called, as he took off his own shoes. Keith was hanging his jacket on one of the wall pegs.

“Lance!” sang his sister’s voice from somewhere in the building.

“I’m home!”

“I got that!”

Lance could hear the muffled sound of her feet running down the hall, before she appeared in her lilac hoodie and grey sweatpants, hair dishevelled. She was all smiles when she entered – until she looked behind Lance and noticed who was with him.

“Keith?”

“Oh, yeah, look who’s here,” Lance said, gesturing with a hand. “He came to the hotel for a room. The Blades are staying for a few days.”

Keith seemed to ignore Lance’s tone, stepping forward to greet his sister. “Hey, Veronica.”

Veronica’s mouth was slightly agape, taking a few moments to snap out of the daze.

“God, sorry, I’m so tired. Hi.” She stepped forward to meet him in a hug, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. Keith didn’t seem entirely keen on reciprocating, but did so anyway, arms going around her waist briefly.

“I’m, uh… not dressed for the occasion,” said Veronica as she stepped back, glancing awkwardly at her clothes and smoothing them over. “Sorry. I only just got home.”

“It’s okay, really,” Keith said.

Lance resisted rolling his eyes as he went forward to wrap an arm around Veronica and give her a squeeze.

“Lance, you still look horrible,” she sniggered in his ear.

“Thanks,” he groaned, playfully shoving her away. Then the tantalizing smell of cooked food reached his nose, drawing his eyes to the coffee table by the sofa, where a plate of something lay waiting.

“Awww, you made dinner?” he asked, beaming.

“It’s only a few bites before the main thing,” Veronica grinned, pinning her tousled hair back. “Veggie rolls and mozzarella bites.”

“God, I need that,” Lance said in relief, as he ran over to take one, the wonderful, cooked scent making his mouth water.

“Main meal is black beans and rice, because I’m tired,” Veronica added, pinning him with her eyes which did indeed look tired, the silver drained from her pupils. Sometimes Lance forgot her days could be as long and tiresome as his. Even though making drinks and cocktails sounded great in theory, his sister would often come home and go straight to bed, adding someone else to her list of hated customers.

“Wow. We’re getting better at this whole ‘healthy lifestyle’ thing,” Lance chirped as he took a roll and put the whole thing in his mouth. It tasted peppery and exotic, melting on his tongue, enough to make him hum in pleasure.

“You should make these more often,” he said in the middle of chewing, covering his mouth to hide the spray of crumbs.

“You should do chores more often,” Veronica retorted.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lance deflected, swallowing the roll and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes. You mind entertaining Keith while I’m gone?”

“Sure, it’s just… I’m not well-dressed either, Lance.”

“You had an hour to get changed, V, that’s your problem.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, before turning to Keith, who still stood patiently beside her. “You _want_ to have dinner with us, right?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” Keith locked eyes with Lance, as if he were asking permission.

“Well, Lance invited you, didn’t he?” Veronica smirked. “So you’re completely welcome. Right, Lance?”

Lance was silent for a moment, glowering at Keith. He _had_ invited him here, but now he was wondering if it had been a mistake. It still felt so strange seeing him on Earth, and he didn’t know how he would get through an entire evening without overthinking Keith’s reserved glances and sharp replies.

He tried to relax, forcing a smile. “Right. More than welcome. But, like I said, I’d better get changed.”

His gaze lingered on Keith for one more moment before he hurried down the hallway to his room, half-hoping the floor would swallow him on the way there.

* * *

Lance spent the first few minutes in his room with the curtains closed and the door locked, staring at his shirtless self in the mirror.

He looked a mess, his hairline moist and bare shoulders uncomfortably arched. The more he stared, the more his reflection blurred. How the hell had he survived the day, after forty-five minutes of sleep? How had he pushed through nine hours of work, dealt with the public, his boss, the heat – and to top things off, Keith appearing out of nowhere?

He went to his wardrobe and picked the comfiest, baggiest t-shirt he could find, throwing it over his head, the fresh, cold material a welcome relief. As he walked to his bed and sat on the edge, he wished Camilla hadn’t said anything about Keith. He’d invited him over because he wanted to help; find out what had gone on before he arrived on Earth, but now he had to do that while thinking that… that Keith…

_Oh, God._

He needed to get the rest of his work-clothes off, but the panic rooted Lance to his bed. If it was true, why had Keith never said anything?

 _“Maybe he was really good at hiding it all this time?”_ Ha. That, he could almost believe.

And even if it was true, how was that supposed to make Lance _feel_? At this point, he had no idea what his own feelings were. He knew he was confused, and a little scared. All evening he’d been too aware of Keith’s outfit, his intense looks, his smiles. Something had tripped his circuits, made him nervous, changed the way he interacted with him.

It was unfamiliar, and he wanted it to stop.

Then someone was trying the bedroom door. Lance froze, gripping the mattress, going silent in the hope they would leave. There was no way he could talk to Keith right now.

“Lance?” called Veronica’s voice, muffled by the door.

Relaxing a little, he cleared his throat. “Yeah?” he croaked.

“You okay? You’ve been a while in there.”

Had he really been that long? Awkwardly, he stood and wiped his muggy hands on his trousers. “Yeah, totally fine!”

“Then why did you lock the door?” Veronica snapped. “Can I come in?”

“Uh…”

Lance got to his feet, moved towards the door, and hesitated. “Give me a second!”

“Lance, open the door.”

He groaned to himself as he scrambled through his wardrobe to grab some fresh trousers. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping Keith company?” he griped.

“Yeah, and I will. As soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

Lance nearly lost his balance as he pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, clinging to his bedside table for support. God, his head really hurt. He’d give anything to go to bed and sleep for a few hours. Stubbornly, he walked across the room and opened the door, greeting Veronica’s unfavourable expression on the other side.

As she met his eyes, a sudden horror washed over her face.

“What?” asked Lance impatiently. “I _know_ I look tired, but I don’t need you reminding me every five minutes.”

But Veronica was shaking her head, terrified. “Lance...” She took a breath. “… Your eyes. Your marks.”

Lance almost stopped breathing.

He stood there for a moment, seeing his sister’s shocked expression, touching his face with one hand. In his peripherals, he could see it now: a gentle, white glow.

He ran to his mirror, and saw the Altean marks glowing with bright light, pulsing as if they were alive.

And his _eyes_.

They were glowing too, a silvery-white light inside the pupils. Lance pressed a hand on his marks as if it would stop the phenomenon, but they glowed through the gaps in his fingers like flashlights.

It took only a moment for the pain to set in. His temples began to throb, the inside of his head screaming like it was splitting in two. Lance squeezed his eyes shut in the hope of blocking it out, but it was too much. He felt Veronica’s hands around his shoulders, her voice in his ear. It sounded like she was underwater: her voice muffled, her words unintelligible. 

Lance couldn’t see or hear anything around him, as if someone really had thrown him into the sea to drown. He couldn’t breathe; he was stumbling, hands still around him, one pair around his waist, and seemingly another pair cradling his head… and then there was nothing. Just blackness, all noise fading into silence… and he wasn’t sure if he would even wake up from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I got this baby up! It's 1 AM and my hands hurt like hell but it was so worth it. 
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long! I'm SUPER busy with my Master's course which means I only have small windows of opportunity to work on fanfics. I'm mostly proud of this chapter, especially the dialogue, but I still think some of the writing could have been better. Let me know what you guys think! Is the characterisation working for you? If there's something I could do better, I really want to hear it because it helps so much!
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the update. And don't worry, Lance is fine! There is just some... self-discovery that needs to be done. *wink* 
> 
> And yes, I have a headcanon that Lance loves Katy Perry. What of it? 
> 
> See you next time!


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted this chapter to be out only a month after the previous, but instead it took me... TEN months? Whoops.
> 
> I am SO sorry for the wait, guys, 2020 has been such a crazy year for me, as it has for everyone, but among all the pandemic-related chaos, I've also been focused on completing my MA in Scriptwriting which was really important, so I had to prioritize my work for that. But luckily I completed my MA in September and have been able to dedicate more time to fics since then, and I've missed writing Klance SO MUCH. It's good to be back.
> 
> I hope to get the next chapter out more quickly than this one (I have it all planned out so here's hoping!) but for now, if you've stuck with me from the beginning with this fic, thank you so much for your loyalty and I hope you enjoy this update! 
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Green hills and pink flowers. They were the first things Lance saw when he opened his eyes. 

Everything around him was bright: the cloudless aqua sky, a vast multitude of pink flowers and a meadow that stretched for miles ahead of him. Lance sat up from where he’d found himself lying on the grass, immediately squinting as the sunlight blurred his vision. As he raised an arm to shield his eyes, he observed more of the land around him. He’d never seen this meadow before – it was definitely nothing like he’d ever seen on Earth, or near anywhere he’d been for the last few years.

It felt so real… but his instincts were telling him it wasn’t. 

He had a vague memory of being in his bedroom, his head feeling like it was splitting open, and the sight of his marks glowing. The thought was hazy, like a dream. Maybe _this_ was a dream? A trick? Or, if everything else had been a dream, maybe _this_ was reality?

Lance hoped this was reality, as he got to his feet to stare at the beauty around him. The land seemed to go on forever – he couldn’t see where the meadow ended and the hills began, but the hills were everywhere. They would have been mountains if it weren’t for the grass. The heat on his shoulders was gentle and warm, not overwhelming like the congested city air, but a natural sunlight that graced his skin.

His clothes felt strange, unfamiliar, and as he looked down, he saw he was in some kind of regal outfit. He was wearing a pale blue linen jacket over a white shirt, adorned with elaborate golden stitching that lined the collar all the way down to the last button. His trousers were the same blue, but loose and thin, billowing in the soft breeze. Lance felt something heavy and metal against his ear, before reaching up and touching a small, round earring.

“Huh, neat,” he said out loud. He couldn’t lie; if this _was_ a dream, he was disappointed he couldn’t take this wardrobe back to the real world.

The more Lance looked, taking in the vivid green around him, the more he realised it was impossible for this place to exist.

He remembered the stories Allura used to tell him when they still lived in the Castle of Lions. She told him what Altea had been like, and he most vividly remembered the dark pink flowers and the green grass she’d described; the meadows she ran in as a child and kept fondly in her memories.

What he was seeing now was exactly the same as he’d pictured, like his brain had taken a photograph and made it real.

But he couldn’t get lost in the fantasy. If this was a dream he needed to wake up.

His first instinct was to pinch his wrist, so he did, using his finger and thumb to squeeze the skin. It stung – _really_ stung, but he kept pinching it. He hissed from the pain, dragging it out, and out, and out… but nothing was happening. He wasn’t waking.

With a grimace, Lance let go, noticing the pink-red hue appearing on his skin. He thought, maybe he would just have to wait until he woke up? He looked up again, feeling the air curl around his face, cold and refreshing. He began to stride ahead with the aim of exploring. If it really was fake, he should enjoy the world while he still had it.

He heard the sudden whistling of birds, looking up to see a small flock dancing across the sky like fish at the surface of a lake. They looked like swallows, but bigger, and with bright tropical colours. Their song was a loud, whooping call, unlike any bird Lance had heard before. When they suddenly swooped down in a perfect line, he had to duck to avoid them, feeling the rush of air as they passed.

He had to smile as he watched them fly away, appreciating their rainbow colours before they faded into the sky. Allura had never mentioned birds like these before, so Lance wondered if his imagination had conjured them.

As he began to consider that, a new sound came to his ears. Nothing like birdsong, but softer, like the breeze.

A _whisper_.

There were words in the air – impossible to distinguish, but definitely words. The whispering seemed to be all around him: in the breeze, in the sky, in the ground under his feet.

Suddenly on edge, Lance stopped in his tracks and turned around, expecting to see someone standing there. But there was no-one; just the endless meadow, more hills in the distance, the breeze wafting dandelion seeds into the air.

The disembodied voice continued to whisper all around him, making Lance whip around several times with the hope of seeing the owner, but each time he saw no-one.

Frustrated, Lance threw his hands on his hips. “Okay, whoever you are,” he shouted, practically to thin air, “if this is some joke, I don’t care if this is a dream or not; cut it out!” 

A brief moment of quiet, before the whispers started up again, more distant this time. It certainly didn’t sound like someone trying to cause mischief. It was gentle and soothing, if a little confusing.

Somehow, Lance had a feeling they were trying to tell him something. He felt a magnetic draw to the voice, as if they were signalling him to find the owner. He had no idea how to find a voice that seemed to be nowhere at all, and didn’t even have a body attached, but he was determined to search for it anyway. He wanted to make out the words and understand who was trying to communicate with him. 

His feet suddenly had a mind of their own, drawing him into a run. It was pure instinct, driving him forward, further into the place he knew wasn’t real. He couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull that had taken a firm hold of him, tempting him to find answers.

But before he could make any headway, everything around him was fading, like paint sliding off a canvas.

“No, no, no,” Lance murmured in a panic, reaching his arms out as if he hoped to catch some of the image in his hands.

As suddenly as everything had appeared – the sky, the grass, the birds flitting around him – it vanished like it had never been there at all.

* * *

Lance opened his eyes to a foggy view of his bedroom ceiling.

He groaned, the pain in his head still palpable. He was lying in bed, his mind unclear and groggy from sleep. He wasn’t sure how long ago it was, but he remembered being awake when the pain in his head had started. Veronica had come into his room, he’d felt her arms around him briefly, and then there was nothing. Just darkness. And then he’d woken up here.

He sat up halfway and looked at his clock, the numbers were a glowing red blur at first, then they came together to read ‘22:30’.

He tried to sit up fully and gain his bearings, only to be met with a shock of pain through his left temple, making him fall back on the pillows. His entire body felt muggy, the duvet around him hot and heavy.

And that _dream._ He’d been having dreams for a while now, and they’d all happened before or after his headaches, but in none of them had he ever heard voices. He’d also never ended up anywhere that looked so eerily like Altea.

For a moment, Lance told himself not to worry about it. He often thought of Allura, and he often thought of Altea, so it made sense they would appear in his dreams now and again. But why did these dreams feel so different? Why did he think that voice was calling out to him, and trying to tell him something important?

Lying back on the pillows and feeling even more confused, Lance rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It was too much to take in, and he was tired enough already, reality only just coming back to him. The blind had been drawn over his window, but he could glimpse the dark sky between the panels. 

Just as he realised he should check on Veronica, the door clicked open.

When Lance sat up, he saw Keith walking into his room, still in his skinny jeans and black shirt. Their eyes met from a distance, and Keith seemed to freeze, staring at Lance like he wasn’t real.

“You’re awake,” he eventually said, almost in disbelief. As he approached his bedside, Lance could smell his aftershave. “How are you?” 

“I’m, uh…” Lance barely recognized his own voice as he spoke, deep and throaty after hours of no use. “Tired.”

A ghost of a smile crept to Keith’s lips. “How’s your head?” he asked, as he slowly sat on the edge of the bed.

Lance brought a hand to his temple. “Feels like it’s full of bricks. But it’s not hurting so much.”

“You slept for hours,” Keith explained. “We nearly called the hospital, but Veronica thought it was better for you to rest.”

Lance leaned forward on his elbows. “Well, guess she was right. I feel fine, it was no big deal.”

Keith quirked a sceptical eyebrow. “No big deal? Veronica said you’ve been having these spells for months.”

Oh, so she’d spilled the beans on _that_ one, Lance thought irritably. “They’re… probably not as bad as she made them out to be,” he tried to say with a forced smile.

Keith didn’t look convinced. “Lance, you _fainted_ ,” he snapped. “You _know_ that, right?”

Lance mulled it over, his mind drifting back to what happened before the dream. “I… I guess I don’t remember what happened.”

“You were passed out on the floor when we found you, and your marks were glowing.”

Lance was trying to listen to Keith’s words, but he was more surprised at how angry and worried he seemed. It was almost humiliating, when Lance had been trying so hard to act normal ever since his arrival.

He hung his head to avoid Keith’s gaze. “You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Keith muttered. “I thought you’d have mentioned it sooner.”

“Mentioned… what?”

Keith set his thunderous eyes on him. “The glowing, the dreams, the… panic attacks! They don’t really sound _normal_ , do they?”

“Keith, come on. When was I supposed to tell you? You arrived _today_!”

“Were you _ever_ going to say something?” asked Keith, his glare still intense.

Lance went silent for a moment, chewing on his lip. “Well, not if it never came up.”

“Lance—”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone!” Lance snapped defensively. “It’s not a big deal to me! Sure, it’s weird, but I’m used to it.”

“ _Used_ to it?” asked Keith, looking appalled.

“Yeah. The headaches happen on an average day, but the glowing is new. It only started yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” asked a displeased voice from the doorway.

Lance hadn’t even noticed Veronica walk into the room, with a box of tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

_Crap._

“Heyyyyyy… you?” Lance pointed awkward finger-guns at his sister. “I, uh… thought you were asleep.”

“This happened… yesterday?” asked Veronica, approaching his left side with a fearsome look. “Even though you told me this morning you were fine?”

Lance swallowed under her steely gaze. Even with her dishevelled hair and pyjamas, she was scary when she wanted to be.

“Okay, _maybe_ I didn’t get a great sleep last night because these things started glowing.” He pointed at his marks.

Veronica looked ready to hit him, slamming the glass on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. She opened the box in her hands and handed him a tablet.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, before putting the pill on his tongue and gulping it down with water.

“Worry me?” Veronica suddenly snapped. “Are you kidding?”

A straggly lock of hair fell over her eyes as she shouted. She took a shaky breath as she pushed it out of her face, and Lance thought he could see tears in her eyes – and then she was leaning over and throwing her arms around him, squeezing his shoulders tightly.

“You scared me, okay?” Veronica said firmly, but softly, her breath warm on the nape of his neck.

“’Course I’m okay, it’s _me_ ,” Lance joked as he hugged her back. He caught Keith rolling his eyes before he looked away.

“Lance, just be honest,” said Veronica as she pulled away to look at him. “Did you dream again?”

Lance paused, his gaze held by Veronica’s. He sent a glance to Keith, who was watching him expectantly, his eyes giving him a very clear answer.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “And the weird thing is, they don’t feel like _normal_ dreams.” He rubbed his temple, still sore and sensitive. “There was this voice in my head. It kind of sounded like… someone I knew.”

Lance thought back to the dream, images coming back in waves, and the voice suddenly clear as day, whispering in his ears and luring him somewhere.

“You don’t know who it was?” asked Veronica.

“No,” Lance admitted. “But the place I was in… kinda looked like Altea? It looked like how Allura used to describe it.”

“This has been happening for a while, right?” Keith asked from his right side.

When Lance nodded in reply, it looked as if cogs were turning in Keith’s head. “Well, maybe it’s not normal, like you said,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s got some kind of Altean origin?”

Lance thought about it. There did _seem_ to be an Altean origin, but why was it happening now and not sooner? Could it have been something Allura had given him, unknowingly? The frustration of not having answers seemed to make his head hurt more.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but what am I supposed to do about it? I don’t know how or why it happens.”

“Coran would know,” Keith said immediately. “Or Romelle.”

“Oh, sure, I guess I’ll just call their landline,” Lance said with a roll of his eyes. “They’re _lightyears_ away, Keith.”

“We can try getting hold of them. They shouldn’t be too far out of range.”

Lance folded his arms. “I thought you had places to be,” he muttered, half to himself.

“I can spare some time,” Keith said softly. “It’s important.”

He could tell by Keith’s voice that he meant it, but Lance still refused to look at him. “Good to know you pick your priorities when it suits you.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Veronica snapped. She sent Keith an apologetic look. “Look, I think we’re all pretty tired. Lance, you should get some more sleep--”

“Uh, _no_ , I’m not tired,” Lance argued, sitting up straighter.

“Too bad, you need your rest.”

Veronica pushed him back down onto the pillows, only for Lance to sit back up again.

“I’ll sleep later! I just… I can’t stay here.” Then he was swinging his legs out of bed before Veronica could stop him.

“Lance, are you sure you can—” Keith said, getting to his feet and his hands reaching out for a moment, as if preparing to catch him.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not hurting?” asked Keith.

“No,” replied Lance, relieved to admit it. His head did feel much lighter and fresher than before. Maybe the tablet was helping. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t _stay in bed_ ,” Veronica reminded him sharply.

“I’ll rest it off later, okay? I just want to eat something. It’ll probably help.”

Veronica looked as if she was going to give him a huge lecture, her hands stubbornly on her hips. After a few moments, her glare softened and she shrugged. “Fine. I’ll heat up your food.”

Lance was about to tell her not to worry, but she was already walking away and holding a hand up behind her to shut him up.

There was an awkward pause, with only him and Keith left in the room. When Lance chanced a look in his direction, Keith had that concerned look on his face, not far from his sister’s disapproving look.

“You sure you don’t want to sleep?” asked Keith.

Lance rolled his eyes. “ _Look_ , I didn’t want people to draw attention to this. That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”

“Lance, you’re in pain, you’re having these weird attacks, and you don’t even know why it’s happening.” With every word, Keith was stepping a little closer, his voice sharp. “Of course you should have brought it up.”

Lance found it hard to make eye contact. He folded his arms and stayed quiet for a moment.

“I know,” he eventually said. “Sorry.”

Keith gave him a soft smile. “Maybe just don’t hide things from people who care about you.”

Lance fell uncharacteristically silent after that comment, feeling the intensity of Keith’s gaze on him. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, before saying, “ _ou_ can talk, Mr. Walls Up.”

When Lance looked back at Keith, he saw he’d coaxed another grin out of him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with an eyebrow quirk.

“Oh, _nothing_ ,” Lance said sarcastically, folding his arms to distract himself. “Aaaaanyway, you ready to eat?” 

“I’m not all that hungry,” said Keith, shaking his head.

“Uh, nice try, you’re not getting away that easily.”

Keith was about to argue before Lance was grabbing him by the wrist and towards the kitchen.

* * *

Even though Keith had insisted he didn’t need dinner, he clearly didn’t want to disappoint Veronica, who had gone to so much trouble to prepare food for the group. Lance was very glad he’d still gotten the chance to eat his black beans and rice, because _damn_ , was it good.

“Okay, here’s the deal: I’m cooking tomorrow,” Lance told his sister, as the three of them finished their meals at the table.

“Only if you’re up to doing it,” Veronica reminded him, jabbing her fork in his direction.

“Oh, come on, V, I’m not going to just stay in bed 24/7! If I can work, I can make dinner!”

“All I’m saying is see how tomorrow goes.” Veronica gave him a pointed look before returning to her food.

Lance rolled his eyes but didn’t argue any further, polishing off the last few grains of rice.

When he was done, he let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair, so full it was making him feel tired. He could quite easily crawl back into bed, and he probably should, given the fact that he had to get up for his shift in the morning.

But instead of that, Lance didn’t move from his seat for another hour, just letting the time pass. He asked Veronica about her day and let her go on a thread of complaints, letting her problems take his mind off his own. Often, when he snuck a glance at Keith, Lance found his eyes were already on him, and then Keith would avert his gaze, as if pretending he hadn’t been looking. 

It was like he was trying to keep an eye on Lance in case anything happened. Lance wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry, but the more he tried to read into the look in Keith’s eyes, and the more often he caught him staring, the more he found his tongue was tied. He knew what those looks could mean, and it scared him.

After some time, Veronica could barely keep her eyes open, stretching her arms out wide. “Bedtime for me, guys,” she mumbled as she slowly slid off her chair. “And you,” she added as she poked Lance’s shoulder.

As he glared at her and rubbed his shoulder, Lance considered the idea of going to bed - but then images came to him of his marks glowing cerulean blue as he looked in the mirror; the memory of his head feeling like it was splitting open, and everything going dark.

“I… I’m still not tired,” he said quickly.

“Lance, come on.” Veronica’s expression was a mixture of sleepy and impatient, her hand resting on his shoulder as if to coax him to his feet. Lance stayed put.

“No, I’m good. I’ll just stay up a little longer.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll stay with him for a while,” Keith suddenly said from the other end of the table.

“You sure?” asked Veronica.

“Yeah, just for the company. We’ll be fine.” At that point, Keith glanced at Lance as if there was some unspoken message between them – something that made Lance feel more at ease.

“Well, drag him to bed if you have to,” Veronica added, before ruffling her brother’s hair.

“Hey!” he muttered, tidying up his locks as she made for the hallway.

“Night, boys.”

“Thanks for the food,” Keith told her.

“Love you!” Lance called as she wandered sleepily to her room. A few moments passed and he heard the door click shut.

Then he was alone with Keith again. Silence dragged out as conversation topics seemed lost on him. The lights above them gave the kitchen a warm glow, caging them out of the dark world outside. Lance found himself staring at the wall opposite – anywhere but at Keith. He glanced at his empty plate, before picking up a stray grain of rice, chewing on it. 

“Lance.”

Trying to remain casual, Lance caught Keith’s stern gaze from across the table. “Yeah?” 

“I…” Keith seemed to falter on his words for a brief second. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Lance was initially confused. “What do you mean?”

“I know I sprung it on you about me leaving.” Keith hunched his shoulders over the table and ran a hand through his hair. For a moment he looked exhausted, as if the day had finally caught up to him. “I don’t want to leave in a hurry, but… I don’t exactly have a choice.”

“Why not?” asked Lance. “You’re the leader, can’t you call the shots?”

“Not this time. There’s this planet we were trying to help and…” He trailed off, then shook his head, as if trying to shake the thought away. “Long story.”

There was a pause as Lance considered his words. He was still hiding something. And then a thought came to Lance’s head that probably wasn’t the wisest one.

“Hey. Have you tried sangria?”

* * *

It turned out, much to Lance’s horror, that Keith had _never_ tried sangria, but thanks to Veronica’s leftover supply, he changed that.

An hour passed and Lance was aware he should be dragging himself to bed, but he just wanted to let the night drift away, using the cocktail to loosen his tongue so he and Keith could just _talk_ , without an anxious rift between them.

They were now sitting on either end of the sofa, Lance’s legs draped across the cushions while Keith sat in the corner by his feet. Keith’s arms were casually slung over the back of the sofa and he seemed more relaxed, thanks to the concoction in his glass, which was now half-empty on the coffee table. A tiny green umbrella lay inside – one that Lance had added for extra flair.

“Okay, they’re pretty good,” Keith said with a satisfied grin.

“I can’t believe you’d never tried one!” Lance exclaimed.

“I don’t drink that much. I don’t usually find it that fun, at least not like other people do.”

“So what _do_ you do for fun? Hide in your room and play with knives?”

“Very funny,” Keith replied dryly.

Lance sniggered before taking a small sip of his Sangria. They _did_ taste good, thanks to Veronica’s bartending skills. The pleasantly dizzy feeling in his head allowed him to forget his panic from only an hour before. He was finding it easier to talk to Keith, despite everything he was worried about; despite what Camilla had said, and despite the gazes they’d been sharing throughout the evening.

He was still aware of things that hadn’t been said, and how tired he was, but he wanted to appreciate the peace he had now, no matter how long it lasted. There were a few moments of quiet before Keith abruptly spoke again.

“I wish I could leave it all behind sometimes.”

Lance looked at him, confused by the look in his eyes as he stared dead ahead.

“What do you mean?” asked Lance.

“Leading the Blades. I don’t know, it’s just…” Keith shook his head, picking up his glass and staring into it. “Most of the time, it’s great, but it’s not the dream job you’d expect it to be.”

At the back of his tipsy mind, Lance recalled how… _off_ Keith had seemed since his arrival, and how he’d seemed determined not to talk about his problems. Now the alcohol was making him more honest, which Lance saw as an opportunity.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Keith took a tentative sip before nodding. “Yeah, they’re… fine. It’s just… it’s not like how things _used_ to be. You know what I mean?”

He looked curiously at Lance, as if he expected all the answers from him. There was a pink hue in his cheeks and a sleepy sparkle in his eyes.

“Back when we were team Voltron," Keith continued, "we kind of knew what to expect, and we had a routine. It’s like I got thrown out of that and into this whole new life. I guess I’m still trying to figure it all out, even after three years."

A thoughtful pause as Keith put his glass on the table. Lance hardly knew what to say, but he got exactly where he was coming from.

“Yeah, I get it,” Lance admitted. “But… do you want to _stop_? Like, leave the Blade?”

Keith’s brow furrowed as he thought about it. “Not really. I don’t think anyone else can do what I’m doing. I’ve got too much of a responsibility.”

Lance curled his body into the sofa as he listened, suddenly desperate for warmth as the room began to feel cold. He didn’t know what time it was, but he could see the sky was pitch-black outside, and fatigue was starting to get the better of him. His feet were bare and his loose shirt was allowing cool air to reach his shoulders and arms. Regardless, he wanted to keep listening to Keith, even if the warmth of his bed was tempting him away.

“It’s hard to deal with everything sometimes,” Keith continued. “It’s not like Voltron, it’s… it’s so different. We’ve gone to a lot of planets and helped a lot of people. You think you’ve seen everything, but then…”

He trailed off, like something had just resurfaced in his memory. He shook his head as if to be rid of it, but there was a glassy, distant look in his eyes that didn’t seem normal to Lance. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, putting his glass down and leaning forward. 

“Fine.” Keith rubbed his face with both hands, as if to hide tears, but when Lance looked hard, he couldn’t see any. More than anything, Keith just looked _tired_ , lines creasing the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks a wintery-pale. 

Influenced by his non-sober brain, Lance put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, rubbing a thumb there.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he said, words spilling out in a tirade. “You can talk to me about anything. You trust me, right?”

Keith laughed sadly before he met Lance’s eyes. “Of course I trust you,” he said sincerely. His dark eyes and smile drew Lance in. “But it’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, hypocritical much?” Lance exclaimed, moving his hand off Keith’s shoulder. “What happened to _not_ keeping secrets?”

Keith heaved a frustrated sigh, his patience wavering. “Lance, it’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, it _is_! Just tell me,” Lance insisted. Without thinking about it, he took hold of Keith’s chin and gently tilted his head up to look at him. “Come on.”

Suddenly Keith was very quiet, gaping dumbly at Lance as he held his face there. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. They were so close together, and the sober part of Lance’s brain was screaming at him to back out. _Stop_ talking and just _go to bed_. 

But the other side of him just wanted them to stay like this – to talk for hours and forget about everything else. He didn’t mind how close they were, or how he felt so comfortable being in contact with Keith like this.

Why hadn’t they done this years ago?

“Lance…” Keith began to say. “I don’t know if I can…”

The sudden buzzing of a phone against the table made them both jump. When Lance looked over, he saw his screen was alight with an incoming call.

“Really? Now?” Lance muttered as he rolled away from Keith to check the caller. But when he saw the name, his irritation disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

 _Hunk_ , the screen read.

“No. Way.”

He showed the screen to Keith, whose eyes went huge as he read it. “Wow. When did you last see him?”

“I don’t know, like, a few months ago?”

“Go on, answer it,” Keith told him, reassuring him with his eyes that it was fine.

A wave of excitement came over Lance as he held the phone with two hands and settled into a comfortable position, bringing his knees to his chest. He took an excited breath, before touching the green button with his forefinger.

The smiling face of Hunk appeared on the screen.

“Hey, Lance!”

“Hunk, my main man!” Lance waved excitedly at the camera, holding the phone up high to keep himself in-frame. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Oh, I’m seriously going crazy. This is the only free moment I’ve had in, what? Weeks?” His eyes landed on something off-screen, before widening in horror. “Oh, boy, look at the time! I’m sorry it’s so late, dude.”

“Hey, do _not_ say sorry!” Lance said while jabbing a finger at him. “I just can’t believe it’s you!”

“Don’t you cry on me, Lance.”

“I’m trying!” Lance said as his voice cracked, fanning his eyes dramatically, but the joy he felt in his heart was certainly not exaggerated. 

It was surreal to see his friend on the screen after so long. He could see Hunk was sitting at his desk in a dark bedroom, and was still in his work uniform: a white button-shirt with a name-badge on the chest.

“How’s work, man?” Lance asked. “You just finished your shift?”

“Yep,” said Hunk, his voice raspy with fatigue. “Ten hours straight of cooking, I barely managed _one_ break.”

“Geez, you work too hard.”

“Eh. It’s not that bad.” Hunk waved a dismissive hand. “Who cares about that anyway? How are _you_ , dude? I haven’t heard from you in months!”

Lance hesitated before answering. How was he, really? Right now, he was tired, slightly drunk, and his heart was still racing from his… _moment_ with Keith. But he wasn’t going to tell Hunk any of that.

“I’m good!” he chirped. “I actually started a job at a hotel.”

“Woah, a hotel?” Hunk looked as if he didn’t believe him. He ogled him with a curious frown. “What are you doing at a _hotel_?”

“I work on reception, and… some other stuff.”

“Really? I see you as more of a bell-boy.”

“ _Wow_ , Hunk,” Lance exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“What? That’s not an insult!”

Lance shook his head as he laughed, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest. He’d missed these conversations: just him and his best friend, talking about life and laughing about the stupid stuff.

“Look, Lance,” Hunk started to say. On the screen, Lance could see his expression slowly crumple with guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t call before now.”

“That’s okay, you’ve been busy!”

“No, it’s _not_ okay!” Hunk interrupted. “You’re my best bro and I should have made time for you.”

“Buddy,” Lance whined, putting a hand on his heart. “I should have made time too! We both got caught up in our lives.”

“I guess,” Hunk replied, resting his chin on his knuckles. “But I _still_ feel bad.”

“Okay, enough of feeling guilty! We’re talking about the _good_ stuff, okay?” He snuck a glance at Keith, who was observing the conversation but clearly trying to keep out of shot. But Lance had other ideas.

“For starters,” he said to Hunk with a raised finger, “look who came to visit!”

As Lance began to scoot the camera over, Keith shot him a panicked look, before seeming to realize he didn’t have much choice. With a resigned smile, he leaned into view and waved.

“Hey, Hunk.”

“Woah, _Keith_?” Hunk sputtered. “Why are you--? How did you--? Why are you with Lance?”

“I was, uh… in the area,” Keith said chastely. “I’ve got a room at Lance’s hotel.”

“It’s not _my_ hotel.”

“That’s so cool! Seriously, what were the chances?” said Hunk as he cradled his face with both hands excitedly.

“Yeah.” Keith paused to scratch the side of his neck. “What were the chances?”

“Wow, it’s like the old gang!” Hunk said happily. “Well, almost. There’s three of us, not seven. Or, I guess, six of us.” He seemed to be confusing himself as he tried to count on his fingers. “Yeah, six. There, uh… used to be seven. Easy to forget that.”

A sad look came over Hunk’s face, and Lance felt a twist in his gut at the thought of the missing seventh member. When he remembered Allura, he thought about his dream, and the visions of a world that looked too much like Altea, and how real it felt.

He licked his lips as the pause dragged out, and he could feel Keith’s gaze on him.

“So, speaking of Allura…”

Hunk looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. “You okay, man? Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… weird things have been happening lately.”

And then Lance told his friend everything. He told him about the first incident with the searing headache he’d woken up to, all the way up to the dream he’d had only a few hours ago. He didn’t _like_ telling people about it, but if the evening had taught him anything, it was that it was wiser to get it out in the open.

When he’d finished explaining, Hunk looked so sad it was as if he wanted to reach through the screen and hug him.

“Dude, that’s bad,” he said after a long pause. “I’m not going to pretend I understand it, but it’s bad. You should see a doctor.”

“I’ve been _going_ to the doctor, Hunk. What do you think they said?”

“Okay, so maybe not an Earth doctor, but an Altean doctor. Keith’s there, hasn’t he got a ship? He could take you to someone, right?”

Lance hesitated as he turned to look at Keith, who had been quiet for most of the call. He appeared deep in thought, his brow furrowed.

“I… I could, but New Altea isn’t a quick trip.”

“You’re missing the point: I _can’t_ leave,” Lance interjected. “I have a job here, I start early tomorrow.”

“You can’t put your job before this, Lance,” argued Keith.

“I can, actually!” An awkward silence. Lance lowered his voice. “Because… I think this is something I need to handle myself. Someone’s trying to talk to me, and I have to keep going into my dreams to know who that is, and what they need to tell me.” He looked Keith dead in the eyes. “It’s not an illness, it’s a message.”

Keith seemed to deliberate his words, as if he didn’t quite believe him. “You can’t be sure about that.”

Lance chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Well… no, I’m not. But it’s a hunch.”

“I still think you should talk to someone,” Hunk pointed out. “And I think I know the right person.”

When Lance and Keith looked back at the screen, they saw Hunk holding up his phone. On the screen, Lance could make out a photo of none other than Romelle, smiling at the camera and making a peace-sign. Her blonde hair was up in pigtails and her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth.

“When was _that_ photo?” asked Lance.

“We… may have had a catch-up last year,” Hunk admitted. “Romelle makes great cookies, I couldn’t say no!” he quickly added.

“Hey, I want cookies!” Lance whined.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Keith interjected, “you’ve got her number?”

“Yup. I’ll send it over and you should talk to her. I mean, I know she’s not Allura, but she might have a better understanding of what’s happening with Lance.”

“Got it. And that way I don’t have to leave Earth at all.” Lance looked at Keith with a smug smile. “See? Problemo solved.”

“Well, not yet,” Keith said with a hard stare. “You should call her tomorrow.”

“I _work_ tomorrow.”

“Call her after work. I’ll stay with you, okay?’

Lance felt drawn into his eyes again, baffled by his offer. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m only here for a few days. Might as well make the most of it.” Keith gave him a soft, almost mischievous smile, and it had a way of making Lance feel he wasn’t alone.

“Keith, I don’t think you’ve _ever_ been this nice to Lance,” Hunk pointed out from the phone-screen.

Keith sputtered, offended. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m nice.”

“Yeah, but you don’t show it that often, so when you do, it’s kind of… surprising.”

Hunk was pressing his two index fingers together, as if he expected a snappy reply. “Makes me want to hug you again.”

“No offense, Hunk, but your hugs can break bones,” Lance added.

“Totally worth it, though, right?” Hunk asked with a hopeful grin. 

After that, conversation seemed to fly by, and Lance noticed that Keith went quiet, leaving him able to catch up with Hunk on everything in their lives they’d missed out on. Not much had changed for Hunk, but it was because he was already doing what he loved. He was working as a waiter as well as cooking in one of his favourite restaurants, and he was hoping to climb the ladder, if he was _lucky_ , as Hunk chose to phrase it.

“Lucky?” asked Lance in dismay. “Dude, you were never lucky, you put the work in! You earned it!”

Hunk shrugged his shoulders bashfully. “Even if you work for it, you’re not guaranteed a higher spot on the ladder. That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, but you don’t give yourself enough credit! You’re trustworthy, loyal, hard-working!” Lance counted off the qualities on his fingers. “Don’t undersell yourself!”

Hunk rolled his eyes bashfully. “I won’t but… it’s never that simple, Lance.” 

Lance was about to go on another tirade, but he was stopped by Keith’s firm hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, well, as much as you want to keep this going, I think we should get to bed.”

“No, not yet!” Lance argued.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Hunk said sleepily. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“Come on, just a bit longer!” Lance whined, knowing in the back of his mind he was being stupid, but alcohol had thrown any sense of logic out of the window.

Keith was already getting to his feet. “You don’t want to make Veronica mad, do you?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

 _Fair point_ , Lance thought reluctantly. He looked sadly back at Hunk. “Talk to you tomorrow, buddy?” he asked hopefully.

“Let’s say the weekend? I’ll be less of a zombie by then.”

“Okay, you know best.” Lance kept in frame as he stood up, holding the phone in front of him, and then made a peace-sign, grinning widely. “This is my new contact photo, okay?” he added.

“You’re ridiculous,” said Hunk, grinning just as largely. 

“I love you too.”

“Okay, good night, Lance.”

“I love you, buddy!”

“Love you too!”

They swapped five more _I-love-you_ ’s before finally hanging up. When Lance turned around, Keith standing there with folded arms, looking doe-eyed and sleepy.

“You ready for bed?” he asked.

“I guess,” replied Lance, pocketing his phone and rubbing his eyes with his spare hand. Then Keith was walking up to him and taking hold of his wrist.

“Come on,” he murmured, beginning to drag Lance towards the hallway.

“Oh, you’re dragging me to bed now?” Lance quipped as he let himself be tugged along.

“I don’t see you getting there without it,” said Keith as he continued walking.

“Wait, wait, where are _you_ sleeping?” Lance asked.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I have to get you blankets—”

“I can do it myself.”

“But…”

Lance was running out of things to say as they reached the doorway to his room. Keith flicked the lights on as they walked in, letting go of Lance’s wrist and moving to the centre of the room. He turned to face Lance and shoved his hands in his pockets, as if unsure how to behave. 

“Do you, um… need anything?” he eventually asked.

Lance told himself it wasn’t weird for them to be alone in his room. They’d been alone there earlier that evening, but a new tension was tangible in the air as Lance stood awkwardly in the doorway. He felt a tiny bead of sweat on his forehead, and almost forgot to speak.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” he said, shuffling his feet. “You… really didn’t need to drag me here though.”

“I think I did,” Keith said, his mischievous grin making another appearance. “You saying you didn’t want to talk to Hunk for hours?”

Lance couldn’t help returning the grin. “Good point. But how could you not want to talk for hours? It’s Hunk!”

“I know.”

“It’s been way too long since I last saw him in-person. Well, since I saw anyone…”

He trailed off when he realised what he was saying. Keith, for a moment, looked guilty. “I know,” he said, again. 

Lance decided to stop talking before he made things any more awkward. To his relief, Keith changed the subject.

“I’ll, um… I’ll let you sleep.” He began to wander towards the door, Lance side-stepping out of the way.

“Hey,” Keith began as he halted by the door, “if you have a bad moment… wake me up, okay?”

Lance nodded. “Will do.”

“And we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Well, I _might_ not see you until the evening,” Lance said. “Leaving early and all that.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll see you at reception to complain about my room.” The mischievous twinkle returned to Keith’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare!” Lance stared at him in mock outrage, just as Keith began to back out of the room.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Keith, hold on!”

Lance wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to stop him (he again put it down to the cocktail), but when Keith paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one hand, he remembered how grateful he was feeling, just because Keith had been around for the past few hours.

Lance licked his lips before continuing. “Thanks. For today.”

Keith seemed surprised, then he smiled again. “It’s nothing. You just need to sleep.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay. Go to sleep, Lance.” 

“It _is_ weird when you’re nice and I don’t know how to take it, but I appreciate it!”

“ _Night, Lance_ ,” Keith said with one more smile, before quietly closing the door behind him.

Lance was left in an odd silence, when all of a sudden he felt things were different.

As he looked around his room, he saw that nothing was out of place. It was the same old room, with the same photos on the wall, the same azure-blue lights draped across the top of the notice-board, and the same window with the moon shining through it.

But in the last twenty-four hours, so much had happened that Lance had barely kept track of. In his hazy mind, he could barely remember what the pain of his headaches felt like. He didn’t remember the panic, or anything about his dreams.

All he could think about was that when he’d woken up that morning, he hadn’t seen Keith for three whole years. Only hours later, Keith had not only dropped by his workplace, but he’d been in his bedroom. _Twice._

Accepting his fatigue, Lance stripped down to his undies and slowly lay back on his bed, resting an arm over his forehead as his eyes closed. He could still hear the voice from his dreams – muffled and echoed in the deepest part of his subconscious – but it drove him mad that he couldn’t make words out of it. He could try and remember but… his mind was everywhere all at once.

He thought about his phone-call with Hunk, and how elated he still felt. He thought about the old days of Voltron, and how empty and quiet things now seemed in comparison.

He thought about Keith and his soft smiles.

When his mind lingered on that image, Lance shook it off. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for his body to succumb to sleep. He wanted to get under the covers, but it was too hot and he refused to move, so he simply lay there, trying to quiet his racing thoughts.

He desperately hoped he would sleep before the sun came up.

* * *

7:00 AM.

The sound of Lance’s alarm blared in his ears. He groaned, curling his hands into his pillow for a few seconds, his head feeling heavy as he slowly shifted across his bed to turn it off. He barely managed to open his eyes as he closed his fingers around his phone – only for it to slip out of his hand and clatter to the floor.

“Damn it…” Lance mumbled, sleep clouding his eyes as he tried to reach for it.

It took thirty seconds more of the agonizing alarm sounds before he managed to turn it off, then he promptly collapsed back on the pillows. He rubbed both hands across his face, slowly adjusting to the light. The sun was barely up yet, but orange rays were already slipping through the drawn blind.

There was a cold rush across Lance’s skin, and he looked down to see he’d slept the whole night without the duvet. He brought one of his legs under the covers and kept it there, appreciating the warmth. He wished he could sleep a little longer, even five minutes, but that was a risk not worth taking.

At that moment, Lance realised something. He’d had no dreams.

Not once had his sleep been interrupted by headaches, voices, or visions of Altea. It probably wouldn’t last forever, he reminded himself, but at least he’d slept. For the first time in months, he actually felt refreshed while waking up. He didn’t even feel hungover, which was surprising.

When Lance finally dragged himself out of bed, he had a quick shower, threw his uniform on, and went straight to the kitchen for coffee. When he walked in, Veronica and Keith were already there. Keith was at the counter staring at his phone, immediately looking up as Lance entered. 

“You’re here early,” Lance commented. 

“I _woke up_ early,” Keith said with a grin. 

“Good to see you’re up as well,” said Veronica, who was shrugging her coat on at the back of the kitchen. 

“You’re leaving already?” Lance asked her.

“I'm covering,” she explained, throwing her satchel over her shoulder. “Mandy called in sick.”

“Isn’t that the third time this month?”

Veronica shrugged, swiping her keys. “Yeah, but it’s not my place to ask why. I’d rather get the shifts done.”

From the slightly lidded look to her eyes, Lance could tell she was still exhausted from the day before. He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t bother going in, but she was already heading for the door.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Call me if you have trouble,” she added with a firm finger in Lance’s direction.

“Okay, okay! See you later!”

Once she’d slammed the door shut, Lance looked over at Keith, who was returning his gaze with a curious smile.

“She works hard, then?” asked Keith.

Lance sighed heavily as he walked over to the coffee machine. “Yeah, _too_ hard. She never gives herself a break! I know we both work, but sometimes I feel like she’s trying to do more hours just to cover me.”

He took his blue lion mug and stared at it for a second, before pressing the button on the machine and placing the mug under the tap.

“I’m not a liability, right?” he asked as he leaned back against the counter. Keith firmly shook his head.

“Of course not.”

“I think I am. My sister didn’t _have_ to live with me – she had options. I feel like I held her back.”

“Lance, she _chose_ to live with you.” Keith turned in his seat so he was facing Lance more directly. “And I can tell how close you guys are. I think she’d be pretty miserable without you.”

Lance rolled his eyes and looked away, watching the coffee pour into his cup. “You’re just saying that because you’ve never had to deal with me. Trust me: I’m a _really_ annoying brother.”

“Oh, I definitely know you’re annoying,” Keith added with a serious expression. Lance marched over and gave him a gentle slap across the head, breaking Keith’s resolve and making him chuckle.

“What I was _going_ to say,” Keith said between his laughter, “is that you guys are good together. Your sister wouldn’t choose to put up with you if she didn’t want to. She loves you.”

Lance’s gaze was drawn into his for a long moment. Then, a _pop_ from the coffee machine drew his attention away. “I know,” he said before wandering over to grab his coffee.

When he took a sip, he found he actually enjoyed it this time, and wasn’t just relying on the caffeine to keep his eyes open. Over the rim of his mug, he noticed Keith staring.

“I like the mug,” Keith pointed out.

Lance stared at it, confused, and then realised what he meant as he registered the blue lion painting. “Oh, yeah. Sylvio painted it for me.”

“Did you ask him to?”

“No. He’d just listened to my stories about Blue and Voltron and everything else, and he… kind of surprised me with it.”

Another gentle laugh from Keith, his eyes sparkling with interest. Then his smile slowly faded, and a thoughtful look came over his face.

“You remember flying one of those?” he asked softly, gesturing to the mug.

Lance thought about the question as he stared at the painted image of Blue. Ever since his connection with her (and Red, for that matter) was severed, he’d lost that vision of what it was like to pilot a lion; how the feeling of it took up every bone in your body and turned your mind into something else.

It was an intense bond that was impossible to recall once it was gone. But what Lance did remember was how happy it made him – to feel the controls in his hands and have an entire being at his will. He’d always wanted to be a pilot, but flying a lion had made him so much more than that.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “You know, last night, when _this_ whole thing happened…” He pointed at his Altean marks. “… I thought I was going to look outside and see Blue. I felt the same way I used to when I flew her.”

“Is it like that every time?” asked Keith, intrigued.

Lance hesitated. “… No? But it _kind of_ felt like that in my dream.”

Keith looked at the floor for a few seconds, then he slowly rose from his seat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “You ever thought that what’s happening might just be… memories?”

“Sure, but is reminiscing supposed to make you pass out?” Lance pointed out. He gulped some more coffee before dumping the rest down the drain. He was suddenly aware of the time, so gave his mug a quick rinse before leaving it to dry. When he turned around Keith was suddenly right in front of him, and he jumped back.

“Dude, don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” Keith said with his hands up as he widened the gap. “I was just… going to help you wash up?”

“No, that’s cool, I’ve, uh… gotta get going. Work and all.”

“Right,” replied Keith as Lance began edging around him. “You’re getting the train in?”

Lance nodded – then he realized he’d done something stupid. “Oh, wait, you don’t have a ride, do you?”

“That’s okay, I’ll just get on your train. I’m going straight back to the hotel.”

“Cool. You have plans?”

Keith thought about it with a considerate frown. Then he smiled to himself. “If it involves the girls dragging me through town, I seriously hope not.”

* * *

Within thirty minutes, they’d arrived back in the city centre, The Pinnacle standing tall and proud in front of them.

The sun was intense on Lance’s back as he walked through the entrance doors with Keith, a cappuccino in his right hand. As soon as he set foot in the lobby, the air-con washing pleasantly over his shoulders, his eyes landed on Camilla, who was at the desk with her chin in her hands, a bug-eyed expression on her face. She was staring blankly ahead and didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.

Lance was thankful he’d remembered to stop for her cappuccino, because she looked like she needed it. 

“I’d better head up, Lance,” said Keith from his left side.

Lance turned to look at him, his mouth half-open as Keith stopped in the centre of the room. Suddenly, Lance remembered he now had to deal with an entire work-day, and there was a twinge of disappointment at not being with Keith for a bit longer. 

“No problem,” Lance replied begrudgingly. “Let me know if you need anything: fresh towels, plumped pillows, breakfast in bed—”

“I get it, Lance, you’re good at your job,” Keith said with an amused grin.

The smile made Lance’s words halt in his throat for a second. “… Hey, just providing a good service – as I would to anybody.”

“Got it. I’ll see you after you’re done?”

The seriousness returned to Keith’s eyes, like he was reminding Lance of what they needed to talk about. Reluctantly, Lance nodded. He didn’t want to make that phone-call, but he knew it was needed, and if it would allow him to spend more time with Keith, then…

Wait, what was he saying?

“Yeah, I’ll… see you later,” he replied. He cringed inwardly. It was like his vocal cords were giving up on him.

Keith didn’t seem to notice, or at least was _pretending_ not to, giving Lance one more smile before heading to the elevator. His mind now on his work, Lance went straight to the reception desk - only to be met with Camilla’s self-satisfied smirk.

“Hey. How was _your_ night?” she asked dreamily.

“Fine. Here’s your coffee,” Lance muttered as he put the cup on the counter and walked to his seat.

“No, no, you’re telling me _everything_ ,” Camilla insisted as Lance sat beside her, perking up despite the dark circles under her eyes. “I didn’t put up with your bickering to _not_ find out how it went afterwards. Did you at least make it up?”

“Yeah. We made it up,” Lance told her firmly, hoping that would be enough.

A few moments passed as he dumped his bag on the floor, placed his phone on the desk, and began to log onto the computer. He could feel Camilla staring at him.

“… Does that mean you smooched?”

“No!” Lance shrieked, nearly knocking over Camilla’s coffee. He immediately realized how loud his voice was, cringing as a woman on a nearby sofa looked up from her book in alarm. Ducking his head further behind the desk, he whispered to Camilla, “ _No_. It’s _not_ like that.”

Camilla continued smirking at him. “Are you sure? Despite the longing looks and the fact he stayed at your place last night? And don’t get me started on the flirting I just saw.”

“I’m not talking about this,” Lance spluttered, trying to focus on the computer screen as he opened a window full of bookings. “It was a normal night where a friend _happened_ to crash at my place. End of story.”

“All right, all right.” Camilla held her hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.” She finally noticed the coffee Lance had brought her, grabbing it and taking an eager sip. She licked froth off her lips, before giving a satisfied hum. “Sorely needed.”

“I figured,” said Lance, glancing away from the screen.

Camilla scowled over the lid. “Thanks.”

“No, I didn’t mean… I just meant you look tired.”

He immediately regretted those words as Camilla fixed him with an even fiercer glare. “Sorry! I just meant—”

“It’s fine,” she said with a dejected sigh. “You’re right, I don’t think I slept a wink.” She downed more coffee – seemingly half the cup – and wiped her mouth. “I’m not even thinking about work right now. All I can think about is home.”

“What’s going on?”

She slammed her cup down in frustration. “Long story short, my mom just lost her job.”

At this news, Lance turned to stare at her fully. “What? How?”

“The company told her they _couldn’t afford_ to keep her on,” Camilla said as she made bunny fingers for emphasis. “But that’s bullshit. She’s the most experienced and had a senior position there for years. They kept on all the young white Americans who were better at English. Coincidental? Don’t think so.”

She hid her face in her hands, exhaling heavily, and Lance could only stare at her in dismay. He understood her anger - even empathized with it, some of his own family having experienced the same problem. 

“I’m really sorry, Cam,” he said. 

Camilla shook her head and pushed back some of her long curls. “It’s fine. We just have to manage, like we always do.”

Barely a moment later, Camilla’s smartphone began buzzing against the desk. She checked the screen and immediately groaned.

“It’s Mom.” She gave Lance an apologetic look. “Do you mind manning the desk for a second?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Lance told her.

She ran to the toilets with her phone in-hand, and Lance felt sure he’d seen her hands trembling before she left.

* * *

Camilla was gone for an entire thirty minutes, which went by at a painfully slow pace for Lance. He’d gone from being sick of the sight of people to hoping that _someone_ would walk through the door. The only ones he saw were those who passed as they went out for the day, and the woman he’d observed earlier, still reading her book on the nearby sofa.

Several times, she looked up and made eye-contact with Lance, to which he would smile politely. The, she would shuffle in her seat, as if offended, and go back to her reading. Eventually, Lance gave up on trying to appease her and started to wonder why Camilla was taking so long. She’d certainly seemed worried, and he knew more must have happened than she’d admitted to. So much had been put on her shoulders without warning, and he had no idea how to support her, or offer any kind of advice. He felt useless sitting in his chair doing nothing, resting his chin in his palms as he watched the world go by around him. He had to remember to smile when patrons walked past.

The lobby was too quiet. Maybe he could flip on some music? He was scrolling through some choices on his phone, going through all his favourite genres. His thumb hovered over Shakira, tantalizingly close to pressing _Play_ , but he resisted the urge. It sadly wasn’t everyone’s taste. Instead, he settled on Sleeping At Last, turning down the volume so it wasn’t too distracting, and let himself lie back on his chair, knitting his hands together behind his head.

Once again, he saw the woman at the other end of the room staring at him. There was an irked look on her face, perhaps caused by the music. Unable to hold back, Lance raised his eyebrows at her. “Not a fan?”

The woman bristled, as if she couldn’t believe he’d spoken to her, turning back to her book in a huff. 

Trying to switch on the charm, Lance laughed heartily. “Sorry, it’s just kind of quiet and I wanted an ambience. Let me know if you want me to turn it off.”

The woman kept her eyes firmly on her book, lips twisting into an irritated grimace. “That’s all right, thank you,” she said, almost under her breath.

Taking heed of her tone, Lance kept any other thoughts to himself, but was happy to let the music play. It made things feel a bit livelier, even if it wasn’t a lively _crowd_.

Another minute went by and Camilla still hadn’t reappeared. Lance exhaled heavily as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. At least it was quiet, but he knew that could change at any minute, so being without her company was anxiety-inducing. When he heard the elevator door slide open, he quickly sat up straight again, prepared to finally talk to someone.

But his heart-rate – annoyingly – picked up speed when he saw Keith leaving the elevator. He was dressed in a new outfit: a navy shirt underneath a brown leather jacket, with loose-fitting denim jeans. Acxa walked at his side, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in a black tank-top and leggings, as if preparing to go running.

Keith was smiling at Lance as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” he said. “We’re just heading out.”

“Oh, cool,” Lance replied nervously. “What are you, uh… what are you guys up to?” Lance could feel himself sweat as he glanced at Acxa. Her intense stare on him felt… disapproving. 

“Just checking out the city,” explained Keith. “Might as well kill some time before later. Do you know any good spots around here?”

Again, Lance found it difficult to speak. He was glancing _far_ too often at the smooth cut of hair that curled above Keith’s eyes.

“Um… yeah, you should try the sandwich place down the road, past the coffee shop, then you’ve got the mall five minutes down, and there’s a river walk if you walk a little further?”

“Sounds great. Thanks.” Keith seemed to take heed of Lance sitting alone at his desk, staring at the counter and the phone playing tunes. “Are you going to be okay here all day?”

“Take me with yoooouuuuu,” Lance whined, throwing his arms across the counter in despair. “It’s going to drag today, I know it.”

“I think you know how to entertain yourself, Lance,” Keith said with a nod at his phone.

“I’m trying to,” Lance muttered, leaning back in his chair with an impatient huff.

“We’d better leave you to it then. But, listen, one more thing…” The change of tone in Keith’s voice was enough to make Lance’s ears stand to attention. “When you’re done, I need to talk to you about something else, okay? Something important.”

Lance didn’t know what that meant, but he could fathom a guess. The nerves welled up in his stomach, but he swallowed them back. “Sure. Is everything--?"

He trailed off when, unexpectedly, Acxa suddenly stepped closer to Keith and brushed her hand against his arm, coaxing him to turn his head so she could lean over and say something in his ear. It was barely above a whisper and Lance couldn’t understand the words, but he didn’t _care_ about the words, because all he could think about was Acxa’s hand on Keith’s arm and her lips almost touching his earlobe. Something in the pit of his stomach curled uncomfortably, and he had a sudden urge to push Acxa away from him. It was intimate, and something about it felt wrong.

Keith seemed to consider Acxa’s words for a moment, and his eyes changed, as if he realised he had somewhere else to be.

When he looked at Lance, he seemed to be distracted by whatever he’d been told. “Uh, anyway, see you later, okay?” he asked.

Lance’s voice felt tight in his throat. “Sure. Later.”

He had barely said goodbye before Keith and Acxa were heading for the door. He almost hoped Keith would send him a glance before leaving, or walk back and tell him exactly what he’d meant, but he and Acxa kept their backs turned as they left the hotel, and Lance was left with an odd ache in his stomach as he stared at the revolving doors.

“Ahem.”

Startled, Lance turned in his seat to see Camilla standing there. 

“You okay?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah. Why?” 

Camilla continued to ogle him as she walked back to her seat. “Well, it’s just that those two seemed kind of…”

“Yeah, I know.”

The words were out of Lance’s mouth before he could think about it. He could hear how dejected his voice sounded, and he wasn’t even going to deny that he felt bad. He couldn’t understand _why_ he felt bad, but the feeling wouldn’t leave him. It was like a bug that had found its way under his skin.

“Lance.” Camilla’s serious tone made him turn to look at her. She sat down in her chair and didn’t take her eyes off him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine!” Lance tried to say with a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? How was your phone call?”

She glowered at him, aware he was changing the subject. “I’d rather not talk about it. Mom’s just… struggling.”

Lance wanted to ask her more, but soon enough the patrons came rolling in, and they couldn’t talk. All that time he put on a happy face and smiled at every person who approached the desk, but all he could think about was the heavy feeling in his chest and Acxa’s fingers on Keith’s arm.

When he tried to push it away, it never worked.

* * *

Lunchtime came, and Camilla took an earlier break than Lance, meaning he was again left to his own devices at the desk. Relieved to find the lobby was quiet once more, he used the free moment to check his phone.

For one crazy moment, he hoped there might be a text from Keith. He wasn’t surprised to see his name hadn’t popped up, but Veronica’s had, just above a text message that read: ‘U okay? <3’

Lance felt himself smile as he messaged her back. ‘Fine, stop worrying ;)’

No more than a few seconds passed and she replied with, ‘I will never stop!!! ;) xxxx’

Lance smiled, despite everything.

Then, there was a bold white in the corner of his eye, and Lance looked up to see Owen coming down the staircase, his shirt and trousers impeccably clean and his brown hair expertly trimmed. It was as if he had his own personal hairdresser in the hotel, pruning him up and getting him ready for every appearance he made. Knowing his boss, Lance didn’t think that idea was _completely_ far-fetched.

Owen’s hands were in his trouser pockets as he approached the desk, staring directly at Lance with firm, unfriendly eyes. Lance quickly hid his phone under the desk and clumsily rested his chin on his knuckles as his boss stopped in front of him.

“Morning, Owen,” he blurted out, hoping he looked as cool and casual as he was trying to be.

“It’s _afternoon_ , Lance,” Owen replied, unimpressed. He looked over the desk and wiped his hand across it, pulling a disgruntled expression as he examined his fingers afterwards. “Listen, I want a word when your shift ends. Can you come to the office at six?”

Lance opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. Technically he was supposed to meet Keith at the end of his shift, and he wasn’t planning on letting him down, but Owen’s serious eyes were on him and he was pressured to give an answer.

This wasn’t something he could say no to. Hopefully it would be a quick meeting he could escape from and only be slightly late to meet Keith.

“Uh… sure. I can do that,” he answered, still unsure of himself.

“Good. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, Owen left the lobby, hands still in his pockets and an unwavering arrogance in his shoulders.

* * *

Lance’s fingers trembled by his sides as he paced outside Owen’s door. He’d already knocked twice, hearing Owen’s voice inside, but his boss seemed to be in a heated conversation on the phone and was paying no mind to the knocks.

Lance wanted to stay patient, but a voice in his brain told him he should just go and meet Keith, like he’d promised. He was probably waiting for him downstairs, and Lance was throwing that away for a conversation with Owen – one which he was _not_ looking forward to.

But no matter how tempted he was to leave, the sheer volume of Owen’s voice as he berated someone over the phone – “Look, I don’t care what you think, just make it happen!” – was enough to keep him rooted to the spot. 

Lance sighed to himself as he watched the clock on the wall. He didn’t like Owen and never had. He’d gotten the job here by a stroke of mad luck coupled with the fact that many local people knew his face. If he hadn’t been pointed at by a group of excited girls on the day of his interview, Lance reckoned he wouldn’t have been employed. Owen looked at Lance and saw a way to make money from his famous face, not because he liked him or showed him any genuine interest.

If Lance had any sense about him, he would have quit the job as soon as he saw how much of a dick his boss was. He considered quitting only a day into the job, but then he met Camilla, the rest of the team who were friendly, and found that he was quite good at the role. Things seemed to settle into place. But at moments like this, he wondered if he’d made the right choice. His palms were clammy from wondering what Owen was going to say to him. Something had been building and he could sense it.

Then he heard a displeased grunt from inside the office, before the phone slammed down.

“’Kay, come in,” Owen called.

Grinding his teeth, Lance reluctantly opened the door, revealing a tired-looking Owen slouching in his chair. He was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be sweating, and Lance doubted the tiny, claustrophobic office was doing him any favours.

“Okay, Lance, sit down. This won’t take long.”

Sceptical of those words, Lance slowly took a seat opposite Owen. The room felt even more cramped as he sat there, the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling bright in his eyes. Why were offices and staff rooms _always_ so lame compared to the actual place you worked in? A beautiful hotel lobby, compared with a cold attic-like room of an office. Yep, that made _complete_ sense.

“Right,” Owen began, facing him directly. “I’m gonna ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

Immediately, Lance felt himself shrink under Owen’s steely gaze. “Uh… okay?”

Owen leaned forward in his seat and knitted his hands together, hunching his shoulders over his knees. He seemed to think seriously before asking his question.

“That group who came in yesterday – the foreign ones with the uniforms? They’ve got some of the best suites in the hotel. Why is that?”

Lance felt his voice catch in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to answer, but he knew whatever he said, it wouldn’t get rid of the thunderous look on Owen’s face.

“Well... I know them,” he managed to say.

“So that gives you a right to give them my best rooms, does it?” asked Owen. His venomous tone put Lance on edge.

“No, it’s just… they’re the Blade of Marmora. They’re special guests, and we were pretty booked up anyway, so we thought those rooms were the best option.”

“ _We_?”

Lance hesitated. He didn’t want to blame Camilla for this, especially when she had so much to worry about already.

“Well, it was my idea. Keith—I mean, the leader of the Blades, he’s a friend of mine.”

“Oh, I see,” Owen said, his voice strangely quiet as he lay back in his seat. He pursed his lips together in a long pause, tapping his shoe loudly against the floor. “So, this whole thing is for you and your pals, right? You want to use this place as a rendezvous spot for you and your buddies, huh?”

Lance could hardly believe what he was hearing. He’d never heard such a spiteful tone from Owen before, and it was like he was trying to make it personal, or trying to intimidate him. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to run from the room, but Lance tried to hold his ground.

“No, they just needed rooms.”

“No, no, no, that’s not what this is.” Owen was now shaking a finger at Lance, leaning forward again with a crazed look in his eyes. “This is _you_ thinking you can do what you want. You can’t just let in whoever you feel like because this is my business, and I don’t need any alien shit on my premises.”

This was the moment that Lance would look back on and wonder if he should have kept his mouth shut. It might have been better if he had, but at the time — in that moment when he felt as though he was being torn open and being made into a spectacle by someone who was supposed to respect him — it was impossible to hold his tongue.

“What do you mean by _alien shit_?” he asked sharply. He could feel his voice shaking. “You know who the Blade _are_ , right?”

“Oh, I know who they are, Lance. They’re just trying to lap up their fame, and that’s usually good for business, but not when they think they can come in here and take my rooms for a discount.”

“That’s not—”

“I don’t want them here, and _you_ let them stay without asking me. I’m telling them to leave tomorrow.”

Suddenly Lance’s feet had a mind of their own and he was standing up, directly confronting his boss. “They’re _not_ leaving.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Owen replied calmly.

“No, you don’t get to tell _me_ they have to leave. It isn’t fair.”

“And you’re about to lose your job.”

What followed was a tense silence, anything Lance was about to say suddenly snatched from his lungs.. His fists curled into his palms and his heart rammed against his chest, his energy half-spent from his anger.

“Nothing else to say?” Owen’s voice was still calm, but there was a dangerous look in his eyes, like an animal ready to pounce. “You want to keep your job here, right?”

Lance swallowed hard. He had no idea whether the answer to that was ‘yes’ or ‘no’. He felt helpless all of a sudden, despite standing before Owen with all that anger in his chest.

“Well? _Do_ you want your job?” asked Owen more loudly.

Lance almost forgot to speak, letting the answer come naturally. “Yeah.”

“Well, start acting like it. You’ve been distracted, Lance: slacking off, texting, letting anyone you want in the building.”

“I’ve not been slacking off.”

When Owen suddenly got to his feet, Lance automatically took a step back. “Don’t bullshit me. And don’t think you can do whatever you want. You’re not going on any trips, you’re not staring at your phone during opening hours, and you’re not getting away with crap just because you’re famous.”

Lance felt impossibly small under Owen’s superior height, and he was unable to meet his intense eyes.

“That’s not how this works. You’re not with your… _Voltron_ gang anymore.” Owen said the word ‘Voltron’ with audible disgust. “So, please, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Anything personal stays _outside_ your job. You got it?”

Lance said nothing for a few moments. His fists were still clenched at his sides, his anger almost too much to contain. Against all odds, he kept it inside, biting back the retort sitting on his tongue.

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking Owen dead in the eyes. “Got it.”

“Good.”

After another moment of staring him down, Owen slowly returned to his chair, turning to face the computer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he asked, keeping his back to Lance.

The door was slightly ajar, and Lance was keen to leave, but he wouldn’t be leaving with his head held high. Refusing to give Owen an answer, he silently pushed the door open – at which point he almost stumbled over in surprise.

Keith was standing there, disbelief plastered onto his face as he held his hands out in question.

“What the hell was that?”

“What are you doing here?” Lance hissed as he pushed the door halfway-shut with his foot.

“I came to find you when you didn’t show. But what’s going on?” 

“Keep your voice down!”

“Is he your boss?” asked Keith, trying to look into the room as if he planned to go in and stab Owen.

“No!” Lance told him, embarrassed. “I mean… _yeah_ , but don’t worry about it, let’s just go.” He tried to drag Keith away by the wrist, only to be shrugged off.

“Lance, seriously, I heard everything,” Keith told him, looking agitated and genuinely concerned. “Why are you just taking that?”

Lance was worried Owen would hear all this and slam the door open, keen to take Keith away from the scene. 

“I… I can’t change his mind about it, okay?” he whispered, trying desperately to keep quiet. “Please, can we just go?”

Keith was shaking his head and darting his eyes towards the door. After a moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. “Fine.”

As they began the walk away from the office, Lance could feel his body shaking, his palms sweaty as he tried to take his mind off the conversation he’d just had. He felt insulted, humiliated, and somehow violated, as if he’d lost control of everything. His heart still rammed against his chest, and he didn’t know how to function, barely how to walk. He could feel a pain in his head…

Then there was a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Lance.”

Lance looked up, aware his mind had been drifting. Keith was gazing directly at him, searching his eyes as if for a problem he could fix. Lance realised how much he appreciated that look, and how much he liked Keith’s firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” asked Keith. His hair was smooth and pristine against his forehead, his Galran marking more obvious in the corridor’s light. There were two perfect dimples in the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were darker than ever.

Lance’s heart-rate slowed, and his headache stopped. He wasn’t entirely calm, but it always seemed to help when Keith was talking to him. Something was there that he valued; something he wasn’t ready to admit to it yet, and he felt completely safe as he looked at him, taking in his image — taking in the person he hadn’t seen for three years; the person he didn’t realise he’d _missed_. 

He held onto Keith’s wrist for a moment, as if to keep himself grounded — or perhaps to make sure Keith wouldn’t disappear again — before smiling reassuringly at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance said calmly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”


End file.
